Hitting the tomes
by Arasinyah
Summary: The world, universe, fate, it's all very complicated. Too complicated in fact and explaining it would take far too long, better to move on. The important thing is that everything is connected. The Universe can be changed by the simplest little things. Harry Potter's life changed because of one simple thing: Homework.
1. Chapter 1

The world, universe, fate, it's all very complicated. Too complicated in fact and explaining it would take far too long, better to move on. The important thing is that everything is connected. The Universe is like a living breathing organism, some cells harmful, cancerous, others benign and just like a tiny little virus can change a body, the universe can be changed by the simplest little things.

Harry Potter's life changed because of one simple thing: Homework.

The oddest thing was that it wasn't his own homework that changed everything, no it was Dudley's.

"Freak, do my homework." Dudley yelled, his red chubby face scrunched up like an ugly raisin.

Harry had been home for a mere few days then, still coping with seeing Cedric's unseeing eyes when he closed his own to sleep, seeing Voldemort rise from a cauldron, still waking from nightmares where he felt the Cruciatus as if it had been embedded into his soul. A few days later and he might have actually coped a bit, felt the need to _do_ things, felt the desperation for information ruhs through him. As it was he was still numb and grieving and grieving takes place in many ways.

Now, Harry could have just told Dudley, 'I spend nine months learning magic, you think I know shit about trigonometry?'. But he didn't. Instead he said something very different.

"Yeah, alright, might as well."

A distraction, Harry thought to himself, was what he really needed. And that distraction turned out to be very important as his friends, family and godfather continued to ignore him as best they could.

And suddenly Harry had many new things to think of that put Cedric, Voldemort,Dumbledore, all out of his mind. First off he had to catch up on four years of maths. It was humbling to have Dudley have to teach him some of the stuff. All his life Harry had despised his relatives but without realising it himself, somehow he had begun to think himself above them, Dudley in particular. Harry had a mother who had loved him so fiercely she had left a blood protection so deep it would even shield the Dursleys. Dudley's mother didn't even love him enough to keep him from a life of obesity and heart disease. Harry had friends so loyal that they literally fought and bled together. Piers would grass on Dudley the first chance he got. And even if he didn't have any of that, Harry had _magic_.

Unfortunately he couldn't use it. Besides there was just something tangible about beating Dudley in something he was actually studying. Yes, the Dursleys had never liked it when he'd outperformed the piece of lard but still, he had at least _known_ that he was better.

Now, nothing. No, this would not do. So channeling his inner Hermione, or rather, his true Harry Potter, he studied.

He studied. And he kept on studying. In the summer after Cedric died, Harry Potter never left 4 Privet Drive in any way and it turned into one of the better summers he had spent. Yes, his own textbooks were still packed away but Petunia and Vernon were just so glad that the boy was doing something normal that they treated him better. And Harry, now spending more time with his aunt without just tuning her out found himself listening to things about his mother that weren't entirely unsavoury.

Sirius and Remus told him all about his father and his pranks, all about Lily and her temper but Aunt Petunia sniffed delicately as he loaded up his tea with sugar and the barest hint of milk that he was 'Just like Lily,' with a tone that almost, _almost_ verged on affection.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever told me." He said, still in shock and she raised her eyebrow in a gesture that was so unlike her and so like Snape that he had to put the mug of tea down.

"I thought you were famous in your world?"

Well that was depressing. He'd been Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived for years and yet the nicest thing he'd ever heard came from his aunt who hated him. And now that he knew what was being talked of him in the Daily Prophet, he knew that it would only get worse. He used to go through those papers quickly, looking for any indication of Voldemort and his lot but that had changed once Dudley had pushed him into telling him why he suddenly wanted to get his hand on every bit of news he could.

The thought of there being some wizard out there who wanted to kill muggleborns and by extension muggles, had frightened Dudley enough that he'd talked to his parents about it and that had sparked off even more conversation. While Harry had his head bent over Dudley's old physics worksheets Petunia and Vernon had a harrowing fight about it all. While Vernon still kept himself away from all this 'freakishness', Petunia, Harry and surprisingly enough, Dudley went over the Daily Prophet everyday, looking for signs of Voldemort.

The Wizarding world had turned on him. When Harry first saw it, he was filled with a sort of incandescent rage,when he thought of Cedric whose murderer would go unnamed all because of the Ministry's idiocy, of Voldemort's laughter, of his mother's golden form coming out of that wand, _still_ protecting him and Harry wanted to set the world on _fire_.

And then Petunia had sniffed while looking over her own section of the newspaper and wondered why on earth his people were selling exploding toilets and how they would install the plumbing for that and it ebbed away to nothing but laughter.

It was the first time he had laughed in so long and he needed that, he needed to remember that he actually could still laugh, was capable of it at all, that it hadn't died inside of him the way everything else seemed to have died with Cedric.

And when Dementors appeared out of nowhere Harry was still inside the house, within its protections and they all huddled into blankets and waited as Hedwig made her way past the ghastly creatures and to Dumbledore. It was a few minutes later that the Dementors disappeared, much to their gladness, but it had shaken everyone. Even Vernon who had till then refused to believe that 'His people' had any power at all, shut up about it and left them in peace for the rest of the days upon hearing of what a Dementor's kiss entailed.

They had all felt its effects, felt their worst memories played out over and over again.

And not once did Dumbledore appear to reassure them of their safety. Not in a single letter did Ron and Hermione, who'd been shite as friends this entire summer anyway, ask if he was okay, simply telling him that everything was going to be fine now that Dumbledore took care of it.

Took care of it. Riiiight.

And further still things changed. Harry supposed that some of Petunia's worst memories involved his mother because suddenly she wanted to talk about her as if desperate to exorcise herself of Lily Potter nee Evans' ghost. So now Harry knew of things. Knew of that boy, Severus Snape, who'd lived down the street half in love with Lily, learned of James Potter the man Lily wanted to marry who was still a boy in so many ways. She told him in a wistful voice of the moment she knew the Lily she knew was lost when her sister had preferred not to turn a key, so used to waving a wand and saying some words.

Was that how Hermione's parents felt, Harry wondered, as every year went on and Hermione spent more time with the Weasleys, at Hogwarts, spent more time on holidays than she did in her own home? He didn't even know their names, only that they were the Grangers and they were both dentists. He already knew how the Wizarding world saw muggles, amusement and toys, not really capable of much. Arthur Weasley's astonishment at what the muggles had achieved was enough of an indicator of it and half the time the technology he was fascinated by was as old as he himself was. And this condescension was from a so called 'Blood traitor', like muggles were little children who had managed to somehow potty train themselves.

Why did Harry love the Wizarding world so much anyway? It was magic, sure and there was something about it that he couldn't put into words that made him feel alive. But then there were so many times when it had also made him feel dead. Like all those times when Voldemort tried to kill him, or when he had a basilisk fang speared through his arm, when a werewolf chased him, when a dementor tried to take his soul. Yes there were many times when it made him feel so dead.

It was a way out of the Dursley's house but for the first time Harry had seen what life would be like for him if he hadn't any magic and it was almost...pleasant. If this was the house he could have come home to perhaps he wouldn't have leapt at the first chance to get away from them, hoping to live with a man that only twenty minutes prior he had known to be a mass murderer and the man who'd let his parents to their death.

But that just wasn't the case. And as tolerable as it was now, it still wasn't home. Nowhere was really. Hogwarts was sanctuary, the Burrow was his best mate's home but Harry had no real place he could call his own. The cupboard under the stairs came closest to it.

He should find one, a home that is. Course the way things were going in the Wizarding world that home might just be in the Muggle world. And considering that he had no actual qualifications and probably appeared to have dropped out of school altogether to Muggle authorities…

He needed to do something about that and the first step began now.

Harry Potter was going to take the GCSE's.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do we do, Pet?"

"I think we need to talk to Harry."

Harry, who had been making his way down the stairs stopped mid-step and waited for the usual cringe that came from Vernon when Aunt Petunia used his actual name instead of just calling him 'Boy' like they used to. It never came and for a moment Harry felt a wave of warmth for his family that he had never felt before.

"We can't take him with us obviously." Vernon said and the wave of warmth receded replaced by immediate hurt.

"But we won't just leave him alone either. Not for some silly lawn contest."

Lawn contest? That didn't sound very believable but then the thought that Aunt Petunia might not attend some lawn contest seemed just as unbelievable. And Harry was confused, they couldn't take him anywhere but they couldn't leave him alone either? What was this?

"You're right." Vernon conceded and Harry's confusion just grew by leaps and bounds. Vernon didn't want him to be seen in public with him but he also didn't want to leave him alone? They'd been leaving him alone for ages, hell they might just have left him with old lady Figg again. This didn't make sense.

So instead of trying to figure it out he made his way down the stairs nosily and within seconds of helping his aunt with breakfast and having a cup of tea, Vernon and Petunia sat down at the kitchen table on the opposite side of him.

"We need to talk." Vernon said gravely. "How do you feel about staying at home alone for a day?"

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia chided and turned to Harry with a smile that had only in the last month become anything one might call natural. "We've received a letter, apparently we've been short-listed for the All-England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition."

"Aunt Petunia...I don't mean to sound rude but that doesn't sound like a real thing. All of England is a pretty big place and if there was such a contest we would have heard of it by now, at least on the telly. Sounds like a scam actually."

The smile dropped from Petunia's face and she turned to Vernon, worried. "You don't think-?"

Vernon thought it over for a minute. "Could be burglars trying to get us out of the house."

"If it was real I think we would have noticed some strangers going around looking at people's lawns." Harry added helpfully.

Petunia looked like she was about to cry. It was understandable really, in a sad sort of way the lawn and the house were Petunia's greatest accomplishments. Harry would always prefer the ordered chaos of the Burrow and the hidden passages and nooks and crannies of Hogwarts but he did hold some appreciation for the tight ship that Petunia ran when he managed to look over the fact that he was the person who actually worked for most of it.

Instead of saying anything though Harry simply picked up the letter Petunia had been clutching till then and noticed a lot of oddities.

First of which was that it looked like someone was writing with a quill.

Years of getting used to writing with one had taught Harry well. He could see where the writer had dipped back into the pot and picked up too much ink, could see places where the quill had dried up and letters were written over, the slight smudge at the side like someone with ink on the side of their palm was resting their hand.

"I think this was written by a Wizard."

The panic that followed was immediate and Harry rushed up to write a note to Dumbledore telling him he thought someone had found out where he lived and was trying to get him alone in the house for nefarious reasons. Hedwig flew out with it clutched in her talons and returned not five hours later with a message telling him to sit tight, reinforcements were coming.

And that's when Harry noticed the oddity. He had been watching the skies like a hawk and thus noticed when Hedwig swooped down and dropped a letter on the lawn that immediately disappeared.

Harry ran out immediately and swung a cricket bat he'd nicked from Dudley's bedroom at the spot. A loud yelp resounded and Harry tugged the person to behind the hedges and removed the invisibility cloak immediately, nearly punching the person until he noticed it was one of the aurors he'd seen during the Triwizard fiasco. Then he swung it again but the man waved his wand and shrunk the bat immediately and put out his hands in a sign of peace.

"Calm down Harry, I'm not here to hurt you."

"Yeah right, a ministry dog not here to hurt me after they already sent a dementor, what a load of crock!"

"Dumbledore sent me to get you!" He said and Harry after making sure to keep one eye on him at all time. The letter read that the auror was on their side and the letter a mere distraction to get his family out of the house because Dumbledore knew they didn't like magic.

What a load of bullshit.

"Dumbledore decided the best way to get the Dursleys out of home was to send them a fake letter for a fake competition? Because that sounds an awful lot like Muggle baiting."

The tall black wizard simply winced.

"Can we please move this inside? I assure you I'm not here to harm you or your family." He said in his deep calming voice.

"As long as you give your wand to me for safekeeping."The man jolted and Harry understood really. Asking for a wizard's wand was like telling a muggle they'd have a go through a body cavity search. Demeaning and suspicious. "I'm underage, can't perform magic, the muggles in this house have had some bad experiences with magic and wizards, and now they find out that a man was watching the house under disguise. You don't want to argue with me on this."

The man carefully handed his wand over flipping it quickly so Harry would hold the handle and laughed wryly.

"Moody would like you kid."

"Why?"

"Constant vigilance."

"Interesting, his impersonator used to say that all the time too, I figured it wasn't a real Moody thing."

The wizard winced. "Yeah, might not want to remind him of that. I'm Kingsley by the way, Kingsley Shacklebolt."

And it was now that he knew his name that Harry let him into the house.

Shacklebolt was a class act. He apologised a million time over for the fake letter while admitting he hadn't written it nor did he know anything about it, he'd just been told that the family would be taken care of. It helped that he had actual experience cooperating with the muggle police and could find some common ground by discussing the justice system with Vernon while complimenting the house to Petunia's pride.

Harry wondered why all wizards couldn't be quite as courteous.

"The dementor attack really shook people. It was a good thing you were all behind the wards at the time, Harry would be forced to use magic to defend himself and the ministry would have wrung him out for that even if it was in self defense."

"The Ministry is really targeting a fifteen year old?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't quite explain how important Harry is to the Wizarding world if I tried. There's no true equivalent to him in the no magical world but he is important. The Ministry's trying to discredit him so hard because simply put Harry's word holds as much weight as theirs does. They're taking advantage of the fact that he doesn't say anything. It's been quite worrying which is why we've been keeping a watch on Harry."

"You've been watching him?" Aunt Petunia honed in on that. "How often?"

Kingsley struggled to answer and Harry helped him out. "I think I deserve to know if people have been stalking me."

"With Lucius Malfoy having so much influence in the Ministry we've been keeping watch around the clock."

"Around the clock? Did that by any chance include two weeks ago when one of those horrid Azkaban things came here?"

"That day there was a miscarriage of duty." Kingsley's face spasmed. "Never been too fond of Fletcher but he's too useful to ignore." He mumbled so quietly Harry almost didn't hear it.

Fletcher, he'd have to remember that.

"So, how are we going to…Actually where are we going?"

"The headquarters of The Order of the Phoenix, it's a group of people who fight against Voldemort. It was recently re-formed, used to exist in the last war as well. You parents," Here he turned to Petunia, "Your sister, they were part of it. Good at it too, thrice they'd fought him directly."

Aunt Petunia flushed. Over the course of summer when she'd understood a bit of the magnitude of Voldemort and his machinations, she'd grown to have a healthy respect for his mother.

"So, how do we do this?"

"Well I understand you have an invisibility cloak? You stay under that and I can shrink your trunk and belongings so we can just put it in our pockets," He turned once again to Vernon and Petunia, "With your permission of course. If you'd rather not do that we can move away from the house to do so."

"T-That's fine." Petunia and Vernon were bewildered. Little wonder when Harry realised that every other time they'd had their house all but invaded by people who poked around the fascinating muggle things and had Dudley suffer the ill effects of magic whether deliberately or not.

It didn't take long at all, once Harry was packed and had all his workbooks and texts for the Muggle side of his studies Kingsley shrunk his belongings, they sent Hedwig out and with a crack, Kingsley with Harry clutching his arm,disapparated.

They reappeared in front of a street in London. By now it was fairly dark but was still illuminated by the streetlamps. Kingsley took out some odd little thing that looked a lot like a cigarette lighter but when he flicked it at the lights they lost power and soon the street was shrouded in darkness.

"That should confuse people enough." He said and nodded satisfactorily and handed Harry a piece of paper.

In familiar handwriting it read " _The Headquarters of the Order Of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve Grimmauld Place, London."_

And as Harry thought about it he saw a house sprouting from between two of the townhouses.

"Shall we?" Kingsley said and led him towards the house. "You know you're quite lucky. Everyone was just about getting ready to come to get you, it was an entire contingent of people but when you sent the letter Dumbledore thought it better to have me simply transport you. Moody had an entire plan prepared involving flying and disillusionment charms and a guard of people."

"I'm guessing Moody didn't go undercover that often."

Kingsley laughed with his whole body as he tapped the door with his wand once. They stepped in quickly but didn't go too far in and when there was a bit more light he could see the snakes running all over the place, in chandeliers, on the door knobs, just everywhere. It had a horrid atmosphere to it and Harry against his instinct stayed quiet. There were questions he wanted to ask but he didn't because it was just such a _creepy_ place to be in, it immediately demanded silence.

Silence that broke when a crash from the floor above activated something and the velvet curtains that Harry had assumed were for a window flew open and showed a portrait that immediately began shrieking and yelling all kinds of vile insults and suddenly people came pouring in trying to pull the curtains back.

" _Filth, scum, byproducts of dirt and vileness! Half-Breeds, mutants-"_

Harry who had been looking up at the chandelier and its snake patterns that reminded him a bit too much of the Chamber of Secrets couldn't contain himself.

 **" _Shut up, you hag!"_**

And sudden silence. Everyone looked at him in awe and the portrait that had been foaming at the mouth quite literally stopped, shocked. The snake that Harry had been admiring moved from the chandelier and Harry in his shock at seeing a _brass fixture_ move upon the wall couldn't say anything. It slithered from stem of the chandelier and pulled the velvet curtains together before threading its tail through the fabric and curling up at it's seam to form a lock. The portrait shook violently but the snake did not move at all only raising its head once to look Harry in the eye and when it fell back to rest it's eye were a gleaming emerald stone that most certainly weren't there before.

"Holy shit, Harry!" Sirius, one of the many people who had emerged and attempted to shut the drapes gaped at him. "Forget vanquishing Voldemort, you've managed to do the actual impossible!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Your...mother?"

"Walburga Black," Sirius said, staring at the velvet curtains that were shut tight with a mixture of satisfaction and awe that Harry had never seen on him before. Then again, he hadn't seen him much. Usually Sirius was on the run and Harry had a brief few moments with him. His friends, the ones who had refused to tell him anything about anything, had spent more time with his godfather than he had. "We've been trying to get her down for ages but nothing worked. We think she put a permanent sticking charm on the back of it."

"So strip the wallpaper it's attached to off. It's pretty ugly anyway."

It was a rather ugly puce colour that might have been Slytherin green once but now was just faded and a rotting brown in places.

Sirius blinked as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. Harry was surprised that Hermione hadn't suggested that, she was the one who'd explained how Wizards didn't use logic often. But then she had spent what appeared to be most of the summer with them, probably hadn't had the time to revert to a more logical set of mind. Harry shuddered to think what his state of mind would be by the end of the year.

"This was your house then?" Because there was no other reason why Sirius' mom's painting should have been up there.

"I offered it to Dumbledore, about the only useful thing I've been able to do." He said, bitter and hard and Harry frowned.

"So then leave. No point hanging around killing yourself when there's no need to."

Sirius turned and gaped, looking horrified. "I can't just leave while there's a war going on!"

Harry shrugged. "It's not a war yet, not completely. Might as well get a few days of vacation while you can, might end up dead any day now. Besides, after all those years in Azkaban you deserve some peace."

"And leave the fight to everyone else?"

"Leave it to Dumbledore. He owes you one for not getting you a trial."

Sirius pulled back, looking at Harry carefully. "You've changed."

"Watching someone die in front of you does that." Harry commented wryly but knew that Sirius had a point. He felt settled somehow, calm in himself.

Privet Drive, for the first time in all his life, had actually been a safe haven, sanctuary even. When Harry had gotten angry, he had been duly punished with homework, when he woke up screaming from nightmares and visions from Voldemort, his family had actually sat down and talked about them somehow they had rallied around him and it grounded him.

"That's not what I meant." Sirius sounded a bit better now, not nearly as despondent though that didn't really mean much. "I half expected you to be yelling at us all for keeping things from you."

"Yelling at your mother's portrait probably helped." Harry admitted and Sirius laughed, properly this time.

" _That_ I can understand." He looked at the curtains wistfully now. "I'm going to miss fighting her once you lot go off to school."

"Maybe Mrs Weasley can help with that." Because While the content differed significantly, Mrs Black's screaming was fairly reminiscent of Molly Weasley's strident tone blaring out of a howler.

Sirius' face darkened and he began muttering under his breath about annoying bints who thought they owned the place.

"Oh, Hermione's not that bad." Harry chided knowing full well who Sirius was talking about and was glad to see his godfather grin. He looked healthier physically but there was a cloud hanging over his head and Harry thought of the woman in the portrait, of Sirius living with her for all those many years and could understand it. While his relationships with his family had improved, if he had to live with a portrait of Petunia calling him freak and badmouthing his parents…

"I know how you feel." And Sirius looked at him carefully at those words, eyes full of appraisal.

"So, parselmagic huh?"

Harry frowned. "What's parselmagic?"

Sirius just stares. "What you just did, that was parselmagic. You don't know?"

Harry shrugged. His parselmouth situation was something he hadn't dared to explore, not since a single instance of him telling a snake to back off had led to being ostracised by the school. But he really should look into it more, it's not like anyone in the school has ever been on his side to begin with. Hell, Gryffindor isn't on his side most of the time.

(Harry won't admit but he's a little bit jealous of Hufflepuffs. IT must be nice knowing no matter what, your house would have your back.)

"I just thought the snake was enchanted."

"Probably is. Maybe all the snakes in the house are." Sirius said thoughtfully. "But what you did was parselmagic. You commanded it to move didn't you? It's not the same as just talking to snakes."

"Was there a parselmouth in the Black family at some point? Is that why the house is-" Harry waved his hand to indicate ' littered in snakes and Slytherin colours' and Sirius smirked.

"Not that I recall. They probably did all this to prepare for the return of Slytherin."

"What now?"

"There's a legend in the older Dark Families that Salazar isn't dead, he just faked his death. When the time comes for the Purebloods to rise again he shall appear at the helm."

And he thought the soaps Aunt Petunia watched were strange and convoluted.

Before he could react to it though, the door opened and a man in rags, smelling a lot like alcohol, smoke and puke stumble din.

"Dung," Sirius cried out exasperated na dmaused and Harry's eye narrowed on the man who'd entered.

"Ah, so you're the idiot who cocked up."

Mundungus shifted under the combined glares of Sirius and Harry and smiled uncomfortably. "No harm done though, you coulda taken them on yerself I don't wonder."

Harry was silent and simply watched him squirm as there was no answering smile from anyone.

"Well it only makes sense. Your name already has Dung in it and you smell like it as well, no wonder you did such a _shite_ job. Do you even have a job? I've seen actual homeless people in London who seem much more put together than you. You literally look like one of those horrid criminals from those Charles Dickens books"

It had been one of the many books he had to read for an assignment in one of the workbooks from the library he was going through.

"Not that far from the truth." Sirius noted wryly and Harry was shocked...by the fact that he was shocked at all. Dumbledore hired Snape, trying to reform a Death Eater was probably easier than trying to reform a petty criminal.

"...I'm sure you must bring a unique perspective to things here." Harry patted Mundungus.

Interestingly that was a quote form Fudge about Dumbledore. He and the rest of the Wizengamot had said they would miss the 'strange point of view Dumbledore brought to the table.'

Dung left soon, still squirming and it was then just Sirius and Harry.

"Sirius, I'm giving you a piece of advice that my aunt always practises when Vernon's aunt comes over." Sirius lifted a brow, curious. "Lock up all the silver."

He broke into guffaws which was weird given Harry's very sound advice. Ever since Great Aunt Edna had gotten away with a few tea spoons from Aunt Petunia's silver she had been _pissed_.

* * *

"HARRY!" And suddenly Harry was choking on hair. Hermione apparently thought the best way to greet a person was to smother them and talk them to death. "-Have you been furious with us? I bet you have. I know our-"

Harry tuned her out. He was far more concerned with getting all that blasted hair out of his mouth, it tasted just horrible and it was getting in his nose, Sweet Merlin!

Finally she let him go once Ron pointed out that Harry did actually need to breathe.

"Dumbledore made us swear not to tell you anything." Ron said with a sheepish grin and Harry didn't just smiled blankly and said nothing. It was sure to be unnerving which was rather the point. He wanted them to feel uncomfortable and awkward.

"Not to worry, I had a lot of fun at the Dursley's knowing that eventually I would get to meet my incredibly shitty friends at some point." He said sarcastically. After all, Ron and Hermione didn't know that his summer had been okay.

They knew what they'd always known, the Dursleys didn't like him, didn't like magic and he had seen Cedric die in front of him.

And they said _nothing_. They asked nothing.

"He seemed to think it best." Hermione said, wringing her hands, "Dumbledore I mean."

"He also thought it best to keep the Philosopher's stone in a school guarded by tests so easy, three first years managed to get past them. He also thought it best to keep the information that the presumed mass murderer who had broken out of Azkaban was apparently after me specifically. He didn't say anything when a teacher performed Unforgivables in class and on people to 'teach' students. He thought it best that no one helped a the fourteen year old who was forced to participate in a deadly tournament because it would be 'cheating' even though all the other schools did exactly that. He then thought it best that someone who might be traumatised after seeing a fellow student die in front if him be isolated from everyone and everything he knew." With every word, his voice grew colder and flatter. Hermione was sobbing by the end of it and Ron looked like he had been struck by a blunt object. "But I'm sure _Dumbledore_ knows best. That's why he's managed to do so much to stop Voldemort hasn't he? Oh, wait, he hasn't done anything! In fact he's pretty much lost a shit load of power. Doesn't make much difference though cause he never really used it to help people. Certainly didn't use it to give Sirius an actual trial, did he?"

"Harr-"

" _Don't_ talk to me about that useless old man."

Because Harry was _angry_. Angry at the old man who thought he could just dump him in the middle of the night off at the Dursley's house with just a note. A note that explained nothing and was more than a little bit threatening. All those secrets that old man was keeping, they'd bite him in the arse soon enough and Harry would watch, and he would point and laugh.

"Well now," came that old Grandfatherly voice form behind him and Harry turned to find Dumbledore looming over his head ominously even with that ridiculous twinkle in his eye and the blindingly garish robes. "Why don't we talk about that in private, my boy?"


	4. Chapter 4

Dumbledore had always been a larger than life figure to Harry. He'd never particularly cared for the Headmaster's other titles, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump but he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. And for a boy who had always wanted to live there forever, be a part of Hogwarts intimately, Dumbledore was living the dream.

Harry hadn't realised how not tall Dumbledore actually was. He wasn't short or anything, but he certainly didn't tower over anyone but the first years. Professor McGonagall stood shoulder to shoulder with him and she was always glossed over when in his company. Harry wondered if that was deliberate, if McGonagall liked it that way.

"I'm curious to see why you think that way Harry." Dumbledore began walking, expecting Harry to follow.

Harry didn't follow. He just watched as it took walking down half the hallway for Dumbledore to realise that Harry wasn't just trailing behind him like a little puppy.

By now a crowd had gathered, every member of the Order listening in and Harry still had a lot to say.

"Actions speak louder than words, Headmaster, and your actions...well, there aren't many of them. Or any at all really. You have _failed_ consistently in keeping your students safe, year after year after year. I will not be going anywhere with you alone, I don't trust you to keep me safe and secure and even beyond that your insistence on talking to me alone even though you don't do that with any other student...it makes me uncomfortable."

"Well now, my dear boy, I can't very well have your aunt with me when talking of Wizarding matters now, can I?" Dumbledore smiled benignly but the twinkly was all but gone and Harry could see a panic in those blue eyes.

"Oh? I thought as guardian she has some say over my well being, or lack thereof, in your school. And in her absence there's my godfather who should be there. After all, _you_ know he's innocent, I know he's innocent and he's in the Order. Hell, you could just have Dobby get him to Hogwarts if needed but you don't seem to even _try_ to do that. Do you not trust him Headmaster, even as you use his childhood house as your headquarters?"

"Of course I do! Sirius is a valuable member of our team," Dumbledore blustered.

Bullshit. Harry could see even Sirius standing on the stair landing behind Dumbledore, snorting in disbelief at that.

"Excellent, so anytime you want to speak to me, you do it with Sirius there or not at all. I'd prefer if my aunt was there as well actually."

Dumbledore shifted gears then. The man was used to getting his way, Harry could tell now that the rose tinted glasses had come off. For a moment he thought of Malfoy, only confident when he had a planned answer ready.

"I see you're getting along with your family now." He beamed.

The beaming was cut short soon enough with Harry's words. "Yes, she showed me the note you left me with when you dropped me off at their doorstep like a bottle of milk."

There were gasps and muffled angry whispers coming from the peanut gallery. It seemed they hadn't realised quite how Dumbledore had ensured the safety of the Wizarding World's saviour. And Harry wasn't an idiot. He understood that Dumbledore had no idea about how to talk to muggles, especially muggles that he knew didn't like magic. And his aunt's house was still the safest place for him to be, the blood wards ensured that and Dumbledore had needed them to take him in, couldn't risk offending them with his magic.

But for all that Petunia hated magic, her sister had still died and she deserved to learn about that in more than just a silly note.

"I'm very sad that you see it like that Harry, I have only ever wanted to keep you safe from those who would harm you." And before Harry could say anything else, Dumbledore walked off, clearly attempting to save face.

And Harry could only hope that Dumbledore did actually have eyes in the back of his head like Fred and George suspected because then he might see the rude gesture that Harry made to his back.

"Harry I can't believe you'd talk to Dumbledore like that!" Hermione chided and Harry snorted.

"Did I actually lie about anything?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore does his bes-"

"That's not what I asked. Anything I said about anything that actually happened, was it a lie?"

Hermione hesitated and swallowed hard. "No, but-"

"Tell you what, when you have something to say that doesn't involve kissing Dumbledore's arse, I'll listen to you. Until then — shove off."

* * *

It took all of one day for Harry to start missing the normality of the muggle world.

It wasn't a Wizarding thing, oddly enough, well, not _just_ a Wizarding thing. Harry knew that somewhere out there, Voldemort had plans, plans that he was slowly moving ahead. The rest of the world didn't know of it at all, they went by in their normal lives like the cogs in a machine. And even the magical world was choosing to be deliberately unaware of it. He had hoped that inside of the headquarters, people would recognise that a war was brewing.

And yet all they were doing was _cleaning the house_. It was ridiculous. Every time he tried to get some information out of people, Mrs Weasley interrupted, shunting them off to do housework.

It was beyond annoying. Aunt Petunia had been disdainful and aggravating herself, sniffing at the 'barbaric' stuff she read about wizards in the Prophet but at least she hadn't pretended like it was all happy and fine.

Even now, while they were all sitting around the kitchen table having just had dessert, Molly Weasley was still trying to keep their ears virgin.

Harry was so grateful for Sirius, he had no words.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked any questions about Voldemort, Harry." Sirius said casually like it was something they discussed all the time, leaning back in his chair lazily.

Tension so palpable, Harry could feel the magic crackling in the air responding to everyone's emotions, went up and everyone who had been lazing about sat with their backs straight, eyes flicking around in a manner reminiscent of the eye that had gotten Moody his infamous nickname.

"Don't be ridiculous Sirius, he's far too young to be involved in all this!" Mrs Weasley said sharply and Harry couldn't help the snort that left him.

"My age didn't exactly stop Voldemort from duelling me and using my blood to resurrect himself. And that's just the most recent of all my adventures or maybe you've forgotten, Mrs Weasley." Harry carefully let his gaze sweep over Ginny as he spoke. "Voldemort doesn't care if he's up against an eleven year old, he'll still fight them, he'll still use them."

"You really think he'll still come for you, Harry?" Remus asked tiredly.

"You all keep thinking of the Voldemort you fought in the last war. This is not the same person. Besides, he's supposedly afraid of Dumbledore and then I'm the only person who's defeated him. Consistently even considering my run-ins with him in first, second and fourth year. He may be waiting for now but eventually he'll go after me. It wouldn't be a complete victory otherwise."

And Harry hadn't forgotten the memory he'd seen of Riddle in the diary. It was supposed to be about Hagrid, yes, but Harry remembered how badly Tom Marvolo Riddle had wanted to stay at Hogwarts. It was his first true home and the man that Tom had grown into, the one clung to his Parseltongue, clung to being the heir of Slytherin, he hadn't really changed that much. Hogwarts was always going to be the subject of obsession to him and it was only made more intense by the fact that Dumbledore and Harry both were there for most of the year.

"Do you have any idea of what Voldemort is up to?" Sirius asked, "Any guesses, any visions?"

"No visions and as for the guesses...Well, I've read the papers, Voldemort is not doing anything obvious is he?" Aunt Petunia had a pretty firm grasp on politics after years of living in Privet Drive. She practically ran the gossip mill and after all, wasn't it she who had managed to convince the entire neighbourhood that the boy they didn't see at all unless he was working in the yard, was a juvenile delinquent?

(Harry still hadn't forgiven her for that.)

It was Aunt Petunia who had pointed out that Voldemort had spent many years in hiding, he was probably building up his contact list again and busy proving to his followers that he was a sure bet this time. After being defeated by a baby his base would have destabilised considerably and he would have needed to prove his potency. "So you lot can't do anything just putting feelers out for allies and what not. Just plain diplomacy stuff."

Remus had been watching carefully as Harry talked and once it had become clear that they didn't need to tell him much, he'd figured out most of it anyway, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, same as Sirius.

And Harry, who had until then only ever thought of Sirius and Remus as his Dad's friends, had the epiphany that they were each others' as well. The arms crossed behind the neck, head tilted back to just that angle and the way they talked with their eyes rather than their words drove home the point.

"It's an uphill battle. No one believes he's really back and so they don't want to work on it either."

Harry had been toying with an idea all this time and finally he said it out loud.

"What if we said that it wasn't Voldemort but just some guy who wants to be him."

Sirius quirked a brow. "What do you mean?"

"We tell them that he told me that he was Voldemort but that Dumbledore now believes it was some imposter pretending to be him. That he was trying to capitalise on all the support Voldemort had the last time. Some new Dark Lord, not powerful yet, just a nuisance."

"What would that change?"

"They won't be willing to believe Voldemort's back, why would they? As far as everyone knows Voldemort died ages ago. They don't know about the philosopher's stone or the basilisk or Pettigrew, there's not even any speculation about it."

Harry wished that the year before he had had the foresight to use Rita Skeeter's fixation on him for something good. Even just mentioning that Sirius hadn't gotten a trial might have changed things, the ministry might have wanted to save face by reopening the case. But then everything always seemed so obvious in hindsight.

"We don't need them to believe Voldemort is back, we just need them to be prepared for a threat."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was worried. He knew that years of Dementor exposure had ruined his godfather's mind but somehow staying in his childhood house (not home, _never_ home) was even worse.

And to be entirely honest Harry couldn't understand that. His worst fear was a Dementor after all and it wasn't even so much the thought of being reminded of his fears but that someone-something?- else knew of them and was capable of using his fear against him.

But Sirius was unhappy and it showed. It was getting harder to keep his spirits up, every time Fred and George or Harry would manage to get him laughing somehow, the twins with their pranks and Harry with his passing judgement on everything the Order did (which wasn't much) but by the time he woke up the next day Sirius was the same despondent person he'd been since Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Place. Harry could see that Sirius was feeling a lot like Harry had in his first few days at the Dursley's, trapped and depressed and just trying to feel _something_ other than grief.

And once they were gone and all the order members would just be going in and out of the house reminding Sirius of the fact that he couldn't leave, it would be so much worse. Sirius was utterly morose and it didn't look like it would be changing anytime soon, Harry certainly didn't know how to snap him out of it.

So he did the only thing he could do with it, he used it.

"Can we talk in private Sirius?" He asked, pointedly looking at Ron and Hermione who had taken to following him and they flushed. Even now as he sat there at the table with Sirius they still hovered and he didn't have the patience or time to get rid of them as he had taken to doing recently.

Ron had been easy enough, Harry had always known his pressure points, taking great pains to avoid them. So it was no hardship to use them against him by counting out his galleons in front of the youngest Weasley to send the boy flying away red faced. Hermione was harder to get rid of of, clingy in ways that were soap opera ex-wife worthy. But even she could be gotten rid of by mentioning new editions of their texts or raising doubts about some bits of homework around Remus who felt the need to explain, which sent her packing to re-do all her summer work to fit in new details.

He didn't have the patience for that now. Harry was being mean and he knew that but he didn't care. He had decided to be selfish and do things for his own advantage and if that meant getting rid of nuisances, then so be it.

"Holy crap!" He whispered when Sirius dragged him to the fourth floor of Grimmauld place, something he hadn't known existed and he highly doubted anyone else did as well because Sirius had had to tell him of it before the stairs to it appeared. A Fidelius hidden in a Fidelius, it was genius. "This is amazing, does anyone else know about this?"

Sirius smirked. "No one but you, me and Remus. He cast the charm and I'm the Secret Keeper." The grin dropped off his face though and he turned grave. "After careful deliberation we thought it might have been prudent to have some backup plans in place."

And Harry suddenly realised what had kept Sirius and Remus quite so busy in the days following his little blow up with Dumbledore.

"This is what you were busy with? I'm kind of disappointed, not to mention what everyone else in the house made of it all."

Sirius cocked his head, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone in the house thinks you and Remus are having a torrid affair. I was kind of looking forward to being godfather to your adopted babies actually. And Tonks' crush has transferred from Remus to Kingsley now."

Which had made a lot of sense really, Kingsley was a brilliant wizard with a respectable future ahead of him whereas Remus was...great but not exactly crush material. Him and Sirius with their history made a lot more sense than Tonks and Remus.

Sirius spluttered for a good few minutes, only stopping once Harry had gotten the deep laughter that had burst out of him at his godfather's wide eyed look, under control.

"So you wanted to talk to me?" Sirius not so smoothly changed the topic and Harry got serious.

"I need to get out of the house and go into Muggle London."

"Harry, I'm not sure if it's saf-"

"Sirius please, I really do need this." He had to go and look at exam centres. This was non-negotiable but he was trapped in the house with far too many people watching him like a hawk.

"I don't know that I can help you with this Harry."

"Sure you can, come on, I'm sure you want to get out of the house too."

Sirius started at that, "And let the Dementors get me?"

Harry snorted. "Sirius, a Dementor came after me in _Surrey_."

"All the more reason for you to not leave." His godfather said, obstinate.

"I'm going with or without you. I _will_ find a way, I'm just hoping to have you there as well." Well, sneaking out under his Invisibility cloak was an option but he really didn't want to do that when he couldn't use his wand to defend himself.

"Harry, even if the Dementors don't find me, the people will. Even in the muggle world they were circulating my name and face."

"That's why we have disguises."

"If I use my wand the Dementors find me and there's no time for polyjuice."

"So just use a muggle disguise."

All he had to do was shave his beard and cut his hair, maybe get some glasses and a fake nose and he'd be set. Honestly, wizards. Not a lick of common sense.

He was slowly warming to the idea but Harry was impatient. He still had a trump card that he hadn't played yet after all and he used it quickly when he saw Sirius get that firm look in his eye that Harry associated a bit too much with Mcgonagall.

"Come on Sirius, are you a Marauder or not?"

And that did the trick. Less than an hour later they were standing in Muggle London.

"Stop fiddling with your nose." Harry said, exasperated. Careful instructions to Kreacher had gotten them a set of fake noses and wigs and they were using the hell out of them. Sirius had shaved his face, cropped his hair closely, slapped on a slightly broken looking nose and wore a large Coventry City parka. No one looked at him twice. Harry switched up his hair for a dirty blond wig, a hook nose reminiscent of Snape and swaddled himself in plaid and denim. No one looked at him either although that was less of a surprise. _His_ face hadn't been slathered all around the country after all. It was just in the Wizarding bits of the country.

Luckily their work in London didn't take too long. Harry had already looked into the procedure, he just found the examination centre, filled out the paperwork and collected all the coursework. And then they had all this freedom...And no idea what to do with it.

Harry wasn't exactly familiar with London. He wasn't even familiar with Surrey. Sirius hadn't been to Muggle London in a while and after the first two of his former haunts turned out to be a Mcdonald's outlet they figured it was time to go somewhere else.

With a fair amount of trepidation (that disappeared the minute Harry called him Padfoot) they went ot eh LEaky Cauldron. They had a cover story, Sirius was Stubby Plankman, the muggleborn uncle who'd decided to return to the muggle world because of Voldemort's attacks and Harry was Gary, his nephew, a too tall for his age first year.

(He still wasn't happy about being thought an eleven year old.)

(But it was still better than being thought to be Harry Potter)

And being in the Leaky Cauldron when he wasn't Harry Potter, when people didn't just want to shake his hand or whisper behind his back was a very different experience for him. It was like any other pub, people coming and going from the Floo and Apparition points, Quidditch hooligans suddenly breaking into fights until Tom told them to shut up or he'd throw them out, that set of teens daring one another to steal the axe hanging on the wall behind Tom's counter.

And just like in any other pub, strangers just began conversations with each other over things in the newspapers that they found ridiculous. Point in case: The man who snorted and loudly said Dumbledore must have been going senile.

"What's all that about?" Sirius said with an accent that Harry could not place and possibly didn't actually belong to any geographical location. "I haven't been keeping up with Wizarding news in some time."

"Dumbledore," The man who smelt of rancid butterbeer said sneeringly, "is saying that You-Know-Who is back."

"He's back?!" 'Gary' squeaked. From the look Sirius gave him he would be getting teased incessantly for allowing so high a voice to leave his mouth.

"Naww kid, that's just what he's saying." The man softened considerably. Huh.

"But it's Dumbledore right? Why would he lie?"

"All that fame's gone to his head. And that Potter kid too, filling the old man's head with that nonsense."

"Potter kid? You mean Harry Potter?!" He said in his best Colin Creevey impression.

"Aye, that one. Been telling people rubbish 'bout how he was taken by some dark wizard at the end of the Triwizard tou-"

"Triwizard tournament?" Sirius interrupted frowing. "They started that ruddy thing again? I heard students died in it. Not sure I want Gary going to Hogwarts if that's happening."

"It's finished now, reckon they won't be starting it up anytime soon." Tom said with a stone edge to his voice, joining in the conversation. By now a considerable amount of people were listening in with some interest.

"Why not?" Sirius pressed on and people began shifting uncomfortably.

"A student died." Someone finally answered and Sirius almost leapt out of his seat in shock. He would have been an amazing actor in another time. Absently Harry wondered if the Wizarding World had actors. They didn't have movies after all and he'd never heard of any plays.

"They say Crouch disappeared during that tournament too, turned up dying near the Forbidden Forest."

"Those bloody centaurs." One witch spat.

"It's not the centaurs that did anything to him, you should know they keep out of Wizarding affairs. If Crouch ended up in the Forbidden forest...well he hasn't got anyone to blame but himself." Her companion chided and Harry stifled a yell. They were getting everything wrong and he couldn't even blame them, it's not like there were a lot of credible witnesses leaving Hogwarts who weren't either students or teachers. Nobody unbiased at all and if the Prophet was their only source of information…

"Bloody hell," Sirius exclaimed, still in character, "I think I'll have to go give some friends in the Ministry a visit, figure out what's really going on. Old Jorkins will have something to tell me."

"You don't mean Bertha Jorkins?" Tom asked and Sirius nodded in affirmation.

"Haven't talked to her in a few years but the old bird sure knows her gossip."

"Bertha's gone missing." Tom said gently and this time Sirius really fell out of the chair.

"You're bloody well fucking with me!"

"Haven't heard from her since last year. She's the flighty kind, head up in the air so no one noticed at first but...the owls can't find her."

"Flighty? Not the Bertha I remember at all." Sirius commented and again it set off a buzz as people began whispering. Harry remembered telling his godfather that Bertha had only become forgetful because of the Memory charm Crouch put on her but he didn't think he could have used that fact like that. Sirius was really very good at this. "Sounds more like someone messed with her head a bit."

"You don't think-?" Tom asked but Sirius just pulled back gravely.

"I don't know what to think. But I come back to the Wizarding world and people tell me Dumbledore's gone mad, people are dying in Hogwarts, witches are disappearing and no one's looking for them and someone else says You-Know-Who is back." Again the whispers had started and Sirius sighed sitting down at the bar with a heavy huff and drained the shot of firewhiskey he'd ordered ages ago and yet to touch. "And I tell you, that sounds a lot like how things started off back when You-Know-Who was starting his war."

"You seriously think that Vo-" The portly man who'd first started all this girded himself. "Voldemort-" A series of gasps rang out. Someone exclaimed his name in admonishment and he shushed them."You think _he_ is back?" The man said, unable to say Voldemort's name a second time.

"Hey, you ask me and I'll tell you I never believed that this little _baby_ destroyed him in the first place. ALways thought that James and Lily Potter must have done something to weaken him and he'd be back sooner or even if he was away, as long as his little toadies, his Death eaters were around after paying their way out of Azkaban, I didn't think the war was over anyway. Everyone thought I was paranoid, called me an idiot." Sirius spat out and then turned to the lot staring at him with varying degrees or horror panic and respect. "I don't feel like an idiot right now."

"That's not what the ministry says." One wizard said and Sirius snorted.

"They would say that, we all know whose pockets _they're_ dipping into all the time. They didn't even know Sirius Black was a Death eater until he blew all those people up and he was an _auror_. You really think he was the only Death Eater they'd missed or been paid to miss?" Harry fought the urge to wolf-whistle as Sirius used _himself_ as a tool to get that crowd all riled up. That was some hardcore dedication.

It was also getting out of hand. If Sirius went any further then he would be remembered and that wasn't something they wanted. They didn't want someone to look up Stubby and Gary and find out that they didn't exist so Harry nudged Sirius gently.

"I think it's time we go back."

Sirius rose out of his chair looking ready for a fight but deflated quickly. "Yeah, you're right." Without any goodbyes, just bleakly paying the bill Sirius stepped out and when the coast was clear he snapped his fingers and had Kreacher apparate them back into Grimmauld place where Harry promptly applauded his amazing godfather.

"You were brilliant!"

Sirius responded with the humility that Harry expected a Marauder to display.

"Yes, I always am." The grin dropped from his face and he picked up one of the coursebooks they'd picked up, tossing it in the air. Harry had had to quickly explain everything to Sirius while he was filling out the paperwork in London but they hadn't had the time to really talk about it. "You're really serious about all this?", Sirius asked though that wasn't what he was really asking. He wanted to know why and Harry had so many answers to that that he didn't know which one to give his godfather.

"I want to have options. I asked myself why I like DADA so much and it's just that I'm good at it. And I'm good at it because I _have_ to be, because there's this mad Dark Lord who wants to kill me." His fingers curled where he was holding up his hands as he struggled to explain it. "I don't want it to define everything. I don't want it to dictate the rest of my life after Voldemort." Well, if he had a life after Voldemort. At this point Harry didn't see it working out very well for him.

Sirius had a thoughtful look on his eyes. "Your new DADA text is shit, we'll just hide your course work in that and the Divination text."

"Why would I need to hide it?"

His godfather looked at him pityingly. "You mean apart from your two shadows?"Good point. Hermione would be treating his books like something he'd gotten under a trade embargo. He could almost hear her questioning him incessantly about everything, she'd probably check his homework over even if she had no clue what it was about. This was something he wanted to do for himself without her help. "Besides, you don't want to answer the questions about when and where you got them, you obviously didn't have it when you came over."

Harry looked at Sirius suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

Sirius rubbed his nose, embarrassed. "Ron caught sight of a few new things you brought with you when you were unpacking and asked people about it."

"When you mean people-?"

"Most of the Order. If it makes you feel any better Remus and Arthur chewed him out for going through your stuff."

"That does not make me feel any better." He needed to figure out some way to protect his things.

It wasn't that Ron and Hermione were bad people- really, they weren't, or that he was worried about them just taking his things. But they didn't seem to understand that Harry was a different person now and that easy camaraderie they'd shared with the whole 'what is yours is mine, what is mine is yours' thing, had to stop. Now of all times, when he didn't know if they were doing anything out of actual concern or because Dumbledore had gently twinkled his eyes at them and 'suggested' it, he didn't feel like he could be even a fraction as open as he was before. There had been a fallout between them, that was a fact. That they refused to understand that was just plain annoying.

"I'll teach you how to ward your trunk if you want."

"Thanks." Harry said absently and they changed out of their 'disguises', a little hair regrowth charm for Sirius who simultaneously mourned losing the practical short hair, and made their way down the stairs.

"Mind telling us where you were, Harry," Remus said blandly as they entered the kitchen to find everyone staring at them, Mrs Weasley's face a red that matched her face. It was only Mr Weasley's calming her down that stopped her from the inevitable outburst she was holding in. "Sirius?"

"Harry had some things he wanted to ask me about."

"Oh? And what might that be?" Remus looked pretty pissed off but Sirius just stepped close to him and whispered something in his ear. Above their head came the sound of raucous laughter from the twins and Harry remembered those extendable ears they had and realised they had heard what Sirius had told Remus. Whatever it was, it must have tickled their funny bones. Then again almost everything did.

Remus lost all his anger though and nodded at Harry knowingly.

"Sirius is probably the best person to ask about that." He said and when the others asked him what he was talking about he cut them off with a simple 'I'll explain later' that had Harry dying to know what Sirius had said.

"What the hell did you tell him?" Harry asked once they were out of earshot and Sirius just shrugged.

"I told him the wee Prongslet was asking me about where to get condoms in Hogsmeade and we had a long chat about Wizarding birth control and protection."

Oh bloody Merlin!

Although… "Wait, what _is_ the usual Wizarding form of birth control and protection?"

Sirius grinned a crazy maniacal grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

Harry was beginning to regret this.

* * *

 **A/N: Soooo, I've just spent the last two weeks researching homeschooling options so I knew exactly why Harry was going to Muggle London only to realise that all that might not apply to Harry in 1995 at all and then cutting down everything I had written about Sirius and Harry's time in Muggle London to two lines. Fun times.**

 **On the other hand if my cousin decides to homeschool my niece I can tell her everything she needs to know.**

 **I'm going to try not to bash people too much. I don't want this to turn into a 'Ooh everyone is manipulating Harry and now he's retaliating' thing. And I also don't want Harry to be a little morose bitch about everything all the time. I want the basis of this story to simply be Harry doing his own research instead of relying on what Ron tells him about Wizards and what Hermione tells him about everything else. I want Ron and Hermione to have actual emotional consequences for blindly following orders and not just a little shouting session especially considering that Ron was actively against Harry in a good portion of GoF.**

 **But I'm probably going to fail at keeping the bashing down because it is really easy to get pissed off and let the inner bias show. Please feel free to yell at me when my version of Harry veers away from being judgey and suspecting to outright paranoid and bitchy.**


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was so glad to be out of Grimmauld Place he almost sobbed. It had been a horrible morning with people screeching and running over one another to get ready on time. Harry had all his things packed, warded and shrunk courtesy of Sirius, who had pouted at the thought of a Second Gen Marauder wanting to be ready on time but helped him nonetheless. The two-way mirror Sirius had handed him while surrounded by the morning chaos was in his pocket, its weight a steady comfort. Sirius had wanted to come to the station as Padfoot, even fought hard against Molly to do so but dropped it right before they left.

"Just wanted to wind up the bint. Warms the cockles of my heart to see her all out of sorts." He'd whispered to Harry before one final hug. Ever since Harry had pointed out how similar Walburga and Molly could be at times, Sirius had taken it upon himself to do his best to annoy Mrs Weasley just as he would his mother. To her credit Molly often handled him beautifully as anyone would expect from the mother of the Weasley twins but all the years of seeing Fred and George off to Hogwarts must have made her lax because more often than not she ended up the same shade of red as her hair.

Harry almost felt sorry for her.

They walked to King's Cross station and it was an utter mess. Why anyone let Moody be in charge of this Harry would never understand, he thought a bloody porter's cap was enough of a disguise for himself while his wooden leg clanked and his eye whizzed about his head. And Sirius as a dog was the one they were worried would be too conspicuous.

Wizards.

"Bloody hell, _you_ made prefect?!" Seamus' yell caught their attention as he stared at Ron's badge in disbelief. His mother smacked the back of his head.

"Language, young man!" His mother didn't have the same accent as him and Harry remembered then that she was a pureblood witch while his father was a muggle. She had the same uppity tone to her voice that Narcissa Malfoy did and she looked over to Ron to apologise for her son only for the apologetic smile to freeze on her face when she saw Harry.

Harry knew that look. It was the same one his neighbours gave him all the time thinking of him as 'that boy who's at St Brutus', it's practically a jail for juvenile delinquents, you know'. He knew the type very well, unable to think for themselves, had to be hand fed information. The type of information you find in the Daily Prophet, for example.

Harry had his trunk shrunk and in his pocket, Hedwig was flying ahead to Hogwarts instead of being trapped in a cage and he had no interest in standing there make small talk with a person who was more sheep than human. His eyes flicked over her dismissively and he turned to Hermione and Ron. "I'm going on ahead to find a compartment. You two probably need to go look for the prefect compartment." He turned then to the Order members still there, "I'll see you later then, Mrs Weasley, Mrs Weasley, Remus, Moody." He turned away, deliberately ignoring the Finnigans and making it obvious. Sirius said it was an insult in Pureblood circles, 'cutting' people as a snub and he wanted to see if Seamus' mother knew exactly how little of a fuck he gave of her opinion. From the sharply drawn breath that followed, she did and it was a lot more satisfying than Harry thought it would be

He meandered down the train, absentmindedly wondering if this was what it was like to be a Slytherin. He had put the Sorting Hat's words out of his mind ever since he'd pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from it but they came to him again, that Slytherin would help him on his way to greatness. Ambition and cunning it had said but Harry couldn't think of any eleven year old who would have that. Even now, Draco who had taken little more than a second to be sorted could hardly be called cunning when all he ever did was to get into fights with Ron, or ambitious when all he wanted was to be follow someone powerful.

And Harry hadn't wanted greatness those many years ago. Greatness meant standing out and he knew all too well what it meant to be a 'Freak' to want that. Not that it did him any good, he was still a 'Freak' even here.

What did it say about him that he had to use an imaginary memory to fuel his Patronus? What did it say that a friend who so easily abandoned him out of jealousy was so precious to him that they used him as the one he would miss most? What did it say when that same person was one he would hurt easily just to get him to stay away?

Harry realised then that he barely even _liked_ himself.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry soon reached a dead end and realised he was at the last carriage. There was still some time to go for the train to take off and he could, if he wanted to, look around to see if there was a carriage with somebody he knew in it but he decided not to do so. He opened the door to see a girl with long blonde hair and large blue eyes at the window. The scarf loosely hanging around her shoulder running parallel to the necklace of Butterbeer corks was blue and bronze, a Ravenclaw then.

A strange Ravenclaw who was also reading a book upside down and had her wand tucked behind her ear. If there was anyone who might keep the other students away it was her and so he walked into the compartment with a hope she'd let him stay.

"Is it alright if I sit here?"

"Very well," She said in a dreamy hazy voice and put her book away, tilting her head in a bird-like motion. "You're Harry Potter."

Anyone else and he might have been annoyed. He'd had enough of being gawked at really, but she didn't say his name like the others did. It was simply an observation and he could almost appreciate the calm way she said it.

"Yes, I am. And you are-?"

"Luna Lovegood." She tugged at her robe in mimicry of a curtsy and Harry snorted a little laugh and bent at the waist in return. The large eyes widened even further as if surprised that he had played along.

"Well then Ms Luna Lovegood, may I ask what you're reading?" She pulled the magazine in front of her face and Harry twisted his head to read the upside down letters. "The Quibbler? Never heard of that before. May I see it?"

Luna obliged, handing it over to him and he found himself reading the oddest magazine he had ever seen. Fudge supposedly ordering Goblins be baked in pie, Sirius a singing sensation named Stubby Boardman, a man flying a broom to the moon and bringing back Moon frogs and whatnot.

It was ridiculous.

It was amazing.

There were mentions of creatures that didn't seem real, conspiracies hidden in conspiracies, warped and almost caricaturised depictions of people and Harry had no reason to dismiss it all.

Why couldn't Sirius have once moonlighted as the lead singer of the Hobgoblins? It seemed like a Marauder prank done well. Why shouldn't Moon frogs exist? Four years ago, he had no idea that dragons were real either. Why wouldn't Fudge order goblins to be baked in pies? He did seem like the type who'd be at odds with those who might know of how deeply he was in Malfoy's pockets.

Maybe that was really the only difference between the Muggle and the Wizarding world, one asked 'Why?' and the other asked 'Why not?'.

"Oh goodie, the nargles have almost all left you now!" It was strange to hear her so excited and still so dreamy.

"Nargles?"

"Mischievous little thieves that are rather fond of mistletoe." She leaned in and crooked her finger at him. Harry bemusedly got closer and the wide eyes became very large. "They like to take happy things from you." She nodded knowingly and while Harry knew she seemed barmy, there was something about what she was saying that nudged his brain a bit.

Soon after they were joined by Neville and Ginny, and the nice calm atmosphere the two had created shattered. Neville was eager to show off his birthday present, a plant that sprayed odd and stinky sap all over them and Ginny knew Luna well enough for the two to have their conversation as well. They were stuck making pointless small talk about their classes and homework for a good hour until Ron and Hermione showed up and proved exactly why whoever had chosen those two to work together as the Gryffindor prefects had been an idiot. Obviously, it couldn't have been McGonagall because she wasn't an idiot so Harry deduced it must have been Dumbledore.

For a man in charge of a castle full of students Dumbledore didn't know them very well.

And then it was Malfoy's turn.

The blond git smirked while Crabbe and Goyle behind him did nothing as per usual and the thought suddenly struck Harry.

"Did you basically look through the entire train looking for me?" Harry's voice was incredulous but he wasn't surprised at all by it. Malfoy scowled and flushed and Harry couldn't help the pang of utter pity that ran through him. "You are taking the phrase cry for attention far too seriously Malfoy, I know you cry yourself to sleep every night thinking of how I rejected your hand of friendship first year but to be so desperate for me to validate you...it's getting a bit sad. I think-yes, I think we need to put some distance between us."

Malfoy turned a myriad of colours, the entire spectrum of the rainbow reflected on his pale pointy little face and finally he snarled, "Watch yourself Potter, I'll be _dogging_ your steps this year."

Before Harry could point out that Malfoy stalking him was the opposite of putting some distance between them the needle nosed git stomped out followed by his cronies and Harry just couldn't let him have the last word. He stuck his head out of the compartment and seeing other students milling about only made him raise his voice further. "I'd appreciate you not stalking me this year Malfoy, we're grown up now and it's giving people strange ideas."

Titters and whispers followed and Malfoy turned to glare at him the exact way Lucius had done before Dobby had thrown him on his arse two years ago and Harry ducked back into the compartment to burst into laughter.

The bubble of elation filling him had him almost skipping even later as they made their way to the carriages only for it to die a sudden violent death as he saw the skeletal winged horses with the milky white eyes that pulled them. His hand rose of its own accord with the slightest tremble to point at them and beside him Neville ducked his head and turned away while Luna said in her odd dreamy way, "It's alright, I see them too"

"See what?" Ron looked around wildly, looking for the horses as if they weren't right in front of his face and Harry frowned.

"Luna," He said turning to the blonde girl. She could see them, Harry could see them, Neville could see them although he was pretending not to and it made him wonder what else she was right about. "Do you mind telling me how to subscribe to the Quibbler?"

"What are they?" Harry asked Luna once they were in the carriage and she turned her wide unblinking eyes upon him.

"Thestrals." She said in a way that was almost clear and normal and that was his main indication that something wasn't right. "Those that have been marked by the vision of death see the Thestrals." She said as if quoting something.

Cedric, Harry realised and even as he curled in on himself, he wondered who were the people that had assisted Luna and Neville in seeing these Thestrals. It wasn't his place to ask though, especially if what Luna said absently about always having seen them was true. What it must have been like to be a first year at Hogwarts seeing things that others could not? It was certain to be unpleasant. Harry remembered what it was like when Ron found out he was hearing 'voices' in Second year, it must have been just as horrid if not worse.

Before they knew it they were at the Great Hall and Luna had left them to join her fellow Housemates at the Ravenclaw table much to Harry's disappointment and the feast was soon underway. Harry paid no attention to it too lost in thought.

He wondered why he could only see the Thestrals now. The Dementors had reminded him of his mother's murder, surely that should have qualified him to see them? It didn't quite make sense to him. Harry had seen death before, perhaps not that of a person but he had seen it. How then did this new sense for Thestrals qualify the value of a life? Did animals not matter to it then?

"Harry-!" Hermione whispered and elbowed him hard.

 _"-Hem, hem,"_

A toad like woman drowning in pink was coughing and Hermione clearly wanted him to pay attention although why she wanted him to do that he didn't know.

"What, does she have dragon pox or summat?" Harry asked absently and a volley of titters flew about at the Gryffindor table and the Hufflepuffs as well. Harry didn't know why they were laughing, if the toad woman had some disease she was coming down with, he didn't want to catch it from her.

The toad woman glared at him and made that odd noise again and Harry was already quite annoyed at having his very deep thoughts about life and death interrupted. "Merlin, someone give the poor woman a lozenge already!"

The laughter started again and he didn't realise why until she began a speech and he realised she was just clearing her throat so she could make a speech.

"It's not my fault she looks like she's fallen terribly sick!" Harry defended himself in whispers. IT was true really, she had such an amphibious look that he wondered if she'd mixed Polyjuice with toad bits like Hermione had done with the cat hair.

The woman continued her speech ignoring the giggles from their table although she made sure to glare at Harry at regular intervals.

The speech itself was not unlike the absolute crap that went on in the House of Commons and the House of Lords, only hidden under a ton of purple prose. Hermione beside him was growing steadily angry while Harry was just bemused. Did she honestly expect some sort of integrity and actual substance to what a Ministry paper pusher had to say?

Still he could understand the dislike. The toad woman had a certain je ne sais quoi that was the absolute opposite of charisma, something about her gave everyone that same feeling as when faced with a cockroach, revulsion and the urge to bug bomb the crap out of it.

Speaking of ugly insects, Harry wondered what Skeeter was up to?


	7. Chapter 7

Seamus and Dean were the first to the dormitory. This was made obvious when Seamus came at Harry the second he stepped into the dorm, grabbing him by his collar and trying to push him up against a wall.

Which might have worked if Harry was someone else, someone who hadn't trained to take on multiple monstrous creatures for the Third Task last year, or maybe if he hadn't been the one to face Voldemort in a graveyard surrounded by his supporters or maybe even if he didn't have Big D the bully teaching him boxing over the summer. Unfortunately for Seamus, he was exactly that person so when his fellow dorm mate rushed him Harry caught his jaw with his fist and Seamus' stomach with his knee. By the time Dean pulled the boy off Harry, he had his wand out and its tip was aglow with the red of a barely restrained stunner.

"Careful Seamus. I didn't win the Triwizard tournament for nothing."

"You bloody pisspot, how dare you cut my mom!" He was pretty much foaming at his mouth and Dean didn't even know why judging from the utter confusion on his face. Made sense, cutting out people was a very old school concept that reminded Harry of the Regency romance novels that Aunt Petunia secretly hoarded.

"Seamus calm down," Ron tried to diffuse the tension, putting himself between Harry and the other boy. "Harry, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"Defending myself against this worthless moron."

"You fucking snubbed my mother!" Seamus roared.

"And you didn't realise that it extended to you too? How stupid are you Seamus, do I need to spell it out for you now?" Harry sneered. "You. Are. Worthless."

"Harry calm down, he's had a shitty summer." Dean tried intervening for Seamus. "His mother-"

"Let me guess, like all the other mindless sheep, Seamus' mother decided that the newspaper that spouts the propaganda that the Ministry commands them to, is right, that I'm a liar and Voldemort isn't back."

Anger was something Harry was well acquainted with. He had a temper, that was a fact. He flew off the handle at the slightest provocation and always knew when that rage was creeping over him as he started to tremble with the effort of holding himself in.

This wasn't anger. This was Harry not giving a flying fuck if wee little Finnegan's feelings were hurt.

"Don't you have a go at my mother," Seamus snapped and Dean once again struggled to hold him back.

"I'm not having a go at your mother. She means nothing to me. She's just an ostrich sticking her head in the sand to ignore the truth, just like the rest of you. Apparently hearing about people disappearing wasn't enough, Crouch dying wasn't enough, Cedric dying wasn't enough, Death Eaters torturing muggles and throwing up the Dark Mark wasn't enough. No, you need pictures in the Prophet to believe that Voldemort is back. You're idiots and when he comes for you— because he _will_ come for you, half bloods, muggleborns and blood traitors et al— you will stand there and do nothing, because you _are_ **nothing** ,so shut the fuck up."

Sometime during Harry's little speech, Seamus had stilled and Dean didn't need to hold him back anymore. They were listening to him, finally and they did not like what they were hearing.

"You're fucking mad, Potter," Seamus sneered unable to let it go and Ron's ears glowed red when Seamus' eyes inevitably fell on him, "And anyone who believes you is fucking nuts too."

"Two of them are Gryffindor prefects too buddy," Ron said aggressively and Harry was annoyed that Ron felt the need to continue this. "Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?"

Neville contributed in a soft voice, "My Gran reckons it's all rubbish." And Augusta Longbottom would know. After all, Seamus' mother had chosen to leave the Wizarding world until her son got his letter whereas the Longbottom matriarch was on the Wizengamot. In some ways Harry rather pitied Finnegan, his mother clearly wasn't important enough or involved in the Wizarding world enough to actually be properly aware of Wizarding politics, she had no choice but to rely on the Prophet.

But Seamus was being a wanker and Harry wasn't in the mood to be forgiving.

Dean shrugged. "My parents are muggles, mate. They don't know nothing about no deaths in Hogwarts."

"Or about the petrified students and ghosts in second year I guess, or about the mass murderer Sirius Black in third, or the 'certain death' in that corridor first year." Harry said offhand, Dean flinched, and Seamus stilled. "And that's interesting isn't it? Three years of persistent actual threats to your life but when the two wizards famed for _actually_ defeating Dark Lords warn people to get ready for war because Voldemort is back, _that's_ when you shouldn't go to school. Tch tch." That anger-filled haze that had descended over the dorm was gone but in its place was a sticky, treacly tension. Maybe they were actually thinking for themselves for the first time in their lives, Harry thought. He grinned a maniacal little grin and went over to his bed, hands on the hanging to pull them tight, wand in hand to ward them safely closed. "Oh well, I'll bring flowers to your funerals. Hope you like geraniums."

* * *

Harry got up late the next morning. He had woken up before everyone but chosen to draw the bed hangings around him tight and making notes instead. Ron had hovered a bit but Hermione had flounced in and dragged him down, apparently to stop Fred and George's antics. The minute the dorms had emptied Harry had gotten ready and slipped out of the common room while Ron and Hermione argued about who would be dealing with the twins. Down in the Great Hall Harry helped himself breakfast, glad to be able to do so without Ron and Hermione fighting all the time.

Angelina marched up to Harry while he was in the middle of a bite and Harry remembered that he actually needed to talk to her about something. Before he could swallow, she began speaking briskly, "Hello Harry, good summer? Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch captain."

Harry held up a hand to stop her mid sentence and swallowed the bite quickly. "About that, I'm not playing this year."

"WHAT?!" She was near tears almost immediately before swinging from that to anger. In that moment Harry understood what was meant by 'Hell had no wrath like scorned woman'. "Why?"

"Because I have OWL's this year." The unsaid 'duh' lingered in the air as Angelina spluttered.

"But you never study! You have a bloody _Firebolt_!"

And he knew what she meant by that. In Hogwarts, he was kind of the Jock. The Quidditch athlete who took the game more seriously than anything to the point where he flew on a professional grade broom. But this year with two different curriculums to study and liaising with Sirius about Voldie he didn't have time for the game.

"My priorities are different this year. Sorry about that, you're running tryouts for Keeper so might as well hold them for Seekers as well." McGonagall was going around the table handing out timetables and Harry took his from her and studied it carefully.

"Professor McGonagall, Harry says he won't be playing this year!" Angelina screeched and the entire Gryffindor table stopped talking.

"Is this true Mr Potter?" McGonagall said softly. If she were someone else Harry would say she was devastated.

"I'd rather focus on my exams this year." Harry's proclamation was met with protests as the Gryffindor table tried their best to convince him otherwise. "And to be honest playing on a team representing a bunch of people who think I'm a mad liar just doesn't feel right. Kind of affects my motivation when I don't have any—what is it called again? Oh yes, House pride."

Cue silence.

And the silence was broken by Ron tumbling into the seat next to Harry, shoving food into his mouth and taking a copy of the timetable off McGonagall who finally snapped out of her daze and moved on. There was some grumbling about their timetables and Fred and George, or so Harry assumed. It was hard to tell between the food the boy was chewing at the same time.

The twins appeared out of seemingly nowhere and pushed in on either side of Harry, shoving Ron away.

"What's this we hear?" Fred announced rounding on Harry.

"Ickle Harrykins isn't our star seeker this year?" asked George, before picking a kipper up and pushing it down his throat.

"Wha? Wadamenapayfiditsh?!" Ron sprayed his food all over Fred and Harry was glad for the twins acting as barriers. The two glared down at Ron, Fred making a face and flicking half-chewed bits of toast off his robes and Ron turned red as his hair in embarrassment.

"Too much on my plate." Harry said succinctly, knowing the boys would understand. The twins were actually in on what Harry was doing with his non-magical studies though they thought it was stupid, and the four were now a team; Sirius was an honorary member of their R & D department with Harry as the financial backer. They'd all discussed various avenue of pranking materials over the summer break and the twins had agreed that Sirius would do better if he weren't cooped up. As such Sirius was using his Stubby Plankman identity to get them some of the more restricted items they needed while in school. "Oh, would you look at the time, Binns is waiting for us."

And thus Harry made his escape.

Mondays, the day Ron had declared the worst in their timetable was actually very productive for Harry. With an hour and half of History of Magic under his belt, Harry was well on his way of making headway on Physics. Hermione took diligent notes, Ron slept off and Harry tabulated the formulae he'd read and then moved on to chemistry to next lecture was Potions with Snape, something that never went well. This year Harry was determined to go about it a different way.

The fact remained that all through Primary, Harry had been an exceptional student, more than just above average. A lot of it was the fact that the library was the one place Dudley wouldn't trouble him, where Petunia making the slightest noise to yell at him would be treated with displeasure and Vernon—well, he probably didn't know there even was a library.

Suffice it to say Harry had been smart. That had ended when he arrived at Hogwarts.

At first, it had been the completely different subjects they had, then the fact that he kept almost dying and the fact that Hermione wouldn't be happy if he outperformed her and Ron wouldn't be happy if he performed at all. However, the issue was more than just that, after four years of 'alternative schooling' he'd expected the return to a non-magical curriculum to be difficult.

It wasn't. And Harry realised soon enough that one of the main reasons for his dismal performance in school were the Wizarding traditions of essays for everything, including their books.

All their texts consisted mainly of huge blocks of text, no matter what the subject. It was a handicap for Harry who, unlike Hermione, was a speed-reader. When he read, it was the keywords that he focused on and his mind tabulated the information in his head. The lack of formatting in the books meant that he often couldn't pick out the main points and with Quidditch, murderous teachers and Dark Lords on his plate, Harry often didn't have the time or patience to make notes of his own.

Not this year. Harry was absolutely determined not to let anything get in the way of his academic achievement. Considering the insomnia and frequent nightmares he had, Harry looked forward to many night of no sleep and lots of free time and he would fill it with studying.

And he started with Potions. All this time he had been treating it like ...well, Potions. This time he would be thinking of it as Chemistry. Carefully categorising ingredients as reagents or catalysts and then their interactions, Harry had a better handle on it. The only bit that Harry couldn't quite compare properly to Chemistry was the turning clockwise and anticlockwise but he would figure it out eventually. A timer was out, non-digital of course, and as he made the Draught of Peace with reference to his own tables along with the method on the board he was actually doing pretty well. There was a slight incident when Neville had accidentally spilled some porcupine quills into his cauldron but because he now knew it was a catalyst that caused an exothermic reaction, he quickly took it off the flame and cooled the potion down to the right temperature.

His potion was emitting the silver vapour required and Snape, who had been hovering, waiting for him to screw it up was left to twist and turn his face, unable to say anything because it would have to be complimentary considering that he'd crooned before to the class that Harry's potion was bound to be ruined because of Longbottom's clumsiness. Acknowledging that Harry had actually fixed the problem was something that was sure to make Snape's stomach upset.

Divination was crap like always. When they could do solo assignments he'd get something done but dream interpretation was just dull. Especially because he'd seen a few texts on psychology to interpret his dreams before and they'd actually made sense compared to Trelawney's bullshit.

And last, but most certainly not least DADA with the pink toad. Even before they stepped into the classroom Harry just knew that by the end of the day Neville was going to be offended on Trevor's behalf if they called her a toad.

Five minutes in and Harry would join Neville in that. The woman had done absolutely nothing but tell them to read their shitty text— whose author frankly Harry pitied because he must either have been related to Umbridge or sleeping with her to get his terrible book onto their text list and neither option was appealing.

Luckily for him, he had The Animal Farm tucked inside the cover of the Defence text so he took advantage of the opportunity to read the book. It was actually interesting and Harry soon lost track of the others as he delved deeper into it. He could hear absently Hermione and Ron saying something to Umbridge and then the rest of the class also piping up. Something about Ministry and education and blah blah blah. He didn't pay it any attention until Remus' came up.

"—you have been frightened into believing you are likely to meet Dark Attacks every other day—"

When Harry's hand went up the room quieted and Umbridge honed in on him with laser sharp focus.

"Mr Potter?" She said silkily which didn't make much difference.

"Well, while we're on the topic of Dark Attacks, I was wondering if you ever caught Mr Crouch's murderer."

She stilled completely. "I beg your pardon?"

"Mr Crouch, surely you must know of him if you work in the Ministry. The thing is he was killed last year and that was on Hogwarts grounds. I was wondering if you caught his murderer. If not then that's some maniac out there with access to Hogwarts. We might need a bit more than theory then."

She smiled tightly and her eyes flicked over the classroom as if only just now aware that there were other students in the classroom as well. "The Ministry has that well under control Mr Potter, there will be no need for worry there."

His hand flew into the air again. Clearly, she was expecting an outburst of anger. To be fair Harry was expecting an outburst of anger as well but the fact that he really wanted to get back to the story was distracting his rage.

"Yes, Mr Potter?" She asked again. Harry had the feeling she would like to have ignored him but since no one else was raising their hand for now, waiting for him to do something she had no choice but to respond.

"Since the Ministry has it well under control, I was wondering when the trial of the murderer will be and if Viktor Krum's testimony would be part of it. He was the last person to see Crouch alive, I believe."

"Those details aren't any of your business Mr Potter—"

"Excuse me, Madame Umbridge but as the heir and appointed proxy to the Black seats in the Wizengamot, I believe it actually is my business." Well, one of the proxies. There were actually five of them and while Harry would vote for three of them the other two were actually Fred and George's. Sirius had called it one of his more twisted pranks.

"What?!" She roared, her wand quickly in her hand and sparking at the tips and some people far in the back began whispering.

" _Whoa, I thought she was a squib!"_

In a moment Umbridge stood up, her hair practically standing on its ends. On someone else it might have looked intimidating. The dumpy witch looked like that sad divorcee with a million cats that hated her and tested their claws on her head.

Pathetic.

"WHO SAID THAT?!"

As the witch got more and more frazzled, the whole class burst into whispers, the word 'squib' thrown about most prolifically along with 'Filch' and as it rose n volume and descended into chaos she finally bellowed out, "Class dismissed! Get out, GET OUT!"

Harry practically skipped his way back. All in all, a very good first day if he said so himself.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry frowned as he thought over his conundrum. He and Sirius had just finished their daily talk on the mirror and not even a week in, he could see Sirius sliding back to his usual mad behaviour. Kreacher, it seemed, had taken to annoying Sirius once again now that he had less to do and without Harry or the twins to run interference Sirius was slipping into the rage, gloom, and doom.

But it was the issue of Kreacher that was taking up most of Harry's time. As a house elf privy to the secret of the house he couldn't be let go of which was really what Sirius wanted. Harry began comparing the differences between Kreacher and Dobby only to find there were a few more similarities than he'd like. Fanatically devoted to someone other than their master, check. Privy to sensitive information, check.

Desperate to leak that information? That question worried him.

Dobby hadn't been able to directly tell him about the Chamber of Secrets, true, but he had managed a way around it to warn him. He had been brilliantly sneaky and while Harry didn't like calling it that, he had betrayed the family that he worked for.

And it was far too easy to see Kreacher doing the same.

Harry couldn't allow it. The more he thought about it the more it unnerved him. House elves had powers that quite frankly terrified him. They were capable of wandless magic, circumventing wards (the blood wards at Privet Drive had been no obstacle to Dobby) and fanatical in a way that made Harry very wary.

Kreacher could be very dangerous. And Harry didn't like that.

"Dobby?" Harry called out softly and the house elf appeared before him in a split second.

 _(Another thing to add to the list of scary things about House Elves: Capable of apparating inside Hogwarts, where apparating was supposedly impossible.)_

"Master Harry Potter sir is calling Dobby?" Harry was taken aback by the wet, adoring wide eyes pointed at him. He had gotten a bit too used to glares and sniggers this year.

"Right, Dobby-" Harry took a deep breath and began, "I know that you like working here in Hogwarts. But I am looking for a house elf and if you would be okay with it, I would like to hire you." The wet eyes were now weeping outright and Harry quickly added, "But if you don't want to that's fine, I'd just appreciate you pointing me in the way of a house elf who would want to work for me."

"Master Harry Potter sir is wanting Dobby to belong to him!" And then he flung himself at his waist hugging him tight. Harry patted his back unaware of the best way to handle this. The only one who hugged him was Hermione, which usually involved choking on hair and trying to breathe, or Sirius which usually had Harry going to the nearest mirror to see what prank the man had played on him.

"Yes, but here's the thing, I can't technically have you." The glee subsided considerably and Dobby's ears drooped. "I could but then I couldn't have you here in Hogwarts, right? And the thing is, one of the main reason I wanted to see if you wanted to work for me was for my godfather. He needs help and his house-elf...doesn't like him."

Dobby looked utterly affronted at the thought of that but then frowned and a thoughtful look came over him. "Your dogfather Sirius is a bad master?"

"Not exactly," Harry understood why Dobby was asking him that. He had 'bad masters' that he hadn't liked, after all, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for him to think that Sirius was an abuser of elves. And to be honest, the way Sirius treated Kreacher was horrid, even if it was mainly in retaliation. "Kreacher, the elf, he's loyal to the House of Black but Sirius isn't like the other wizards in the House of Black, doesn't even like his family, so-"

Dobby nodded knowingly, "Bad Masters had them too."

There must have been other house elves in the Malfoy house, ones who loved them for being Dark Wizards. But why did Lucius Malfoy call for Dobby then, he wondered. Was it just a power play, did old Lucy get off of hurting Dobby who so obviously didn't like him? Was that it?

"So...would you like to be our house elf then?" Harry asked again and Dobby nearly fell over, nodding and saying 'yes' rather vigorously. "Alright then, I'll call you tomorrow when I talk to Sirius again and we'll go over it."

Dobby hugged Harry once more and he was taken back to the first time he'd seen Dobby in the Hogwarts kitchen and another thought occurred to him.

"Is Winky settling in alright, Dobby? Or would she like belonging to a family too?" Two loyal house elves would be good. He could entrust Dobby to keep watch over Sirius and Kreacher while Winky could help him make his way around Hogwarts without alerting the wards. After promising to ask her Dobby disappeared in a snap and Harry settled down to an evening of more planning.

* * *

Despite being labelled a crazy attention seeker and what not, Harry found himself being a bit invisible in the Gryffindor tower. Oh sure, the first two days people had whispered and looked at him with frightened eyes but it went away pretty fast. Even Seamus had stopped his loud grumbling about Harry when it became clear that he wasn't going to react.

They kept expecting him to blow up and when he didn't, they didn't know what to do.

And Harry found his newfound invisibility to be quite interesting. It wasn't like being under the cloak, no fear of being caught and whispering or anything. But he overheard just as much as he might with the cloak. Like now when Fred and George complained to Lee Jordan about overbearing prefects with no sense of humour. It became clear whom they were talking about when they mentioned the prefect owling their mum, Hermione then. Ron wouldn't have the guts to do that, half the time it was Hermione and Harry reminding him to write to Mrs Weasley in the first place.

It was odd to think that only a few months ago Harry would have been lost without them and now it was becoming a chore to tolerate them. They kept on apologising over and over but it appeared like they didn't really have any clue on how to say sorry because they always added a 'but Dumbledore' to the end of it and absolved themselves of everything. Oh, they were 'sorry' that they couldn't write to him but they'd do it again in a heartbeat if Dumbledore told them to. And Harry would have preferred to have friends of his own instead of having lackeys of Dumbledore claiming to be his friends.

Dobby was a better friend than them. He'd even insisted that he be paid a galleon every two weeks instead of every week because 'Dumbledore is being a great wizard but he is no Master Harry Potter sir'. And the house elf would never know how much that meant to him that Dobby was actually willing to work for him (well, technically Sirius) despite knowing ahead of it that he'd be mainly working in Grimmauld place. Harry wasn't sure he would have been willing to move his base from Hogwarts to Grimmauld.

But Sirius assured him that Dobby was very happy with the amount of work he had, that he kept a close eye on Kreacher and that as an elf that had served at Malfoy Manor he knew how to deal with dark artifacts very well. He had already made Sirius a fortune trading some of the stuff in the house in Knockturn Alley and he had grudgingly gained Kreacher's approval by keeping Mundungus from stealing things from the house. Apparently it suited Dobby well to work in a dark house with very light masters.

Winky on the other hand refused to consider freedom for a second. She had been more than willing to be their other house elf though and was especially happy to be given the task of taking care of Harry by Sirius. Being owned by a proper family meant that the Hogwarts elves now accepted her into their fold too, which was great. There was even this one house elf, Blimp, who seemed to be eyeing her fondly when Harry had visited the kitchens.

(Harry was planning to ask the elf all about his intentions towards Winky. Wouldn't do to let him break her heart)

Both the elves had been given a choice and made the one that made them happy.

Which was why Harry was considerably pissed off to see Hermione knitting hats to free the house elves secretly.

"You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free." Ron raged and Harry for the first time since summer was reminded of exactly why he liked the red head.

"Of course they want to be free!" Hermione protested and Harry couldn't help himself.

"You talked to them about it did you?" He sneered and she turned to face him, apparently delighted that he was talking to her only for her face to fall when she saw he was angry. "Asked them? Or did you just assume that they'd want to be free."

"It's slavery!" She screeched and Harry snorted.

"Tell me the names of any five of the hundred something Hogwarts house elves you're trying to free." He demanded and she spluttered in response, unable to answer. "Tell me about them, then, tell me these house elves you're trying to free what do they like to do? Do they like treacle tart like me? What kind of books do they read? Where did they learn their magic? Do they have a preference in Houses, maybe?"

"They shouldn't have to clean up after us like that in the first place!" She said, assuming Harry meant which common rooms they liked to clean and this time Ron scoffed.

"You're just disrespecting them forcing them to be free." He said and Harry agreed.

"Oh but Ron, you know how she always knows best for everyone. Doesn't matter what they actually _want_ , that's ridiculous! Only thing that matters is what the great Hermione Granger wants for them." Harry said sarcastically.

With a sob Hermione swept off but she made sure to very pointedly take her knitting with her which just made Harry angry. Free house elves had a bad time of it, Dobby was happy to be free but even he admitted that the year he spent looking for work had weakened him and his magic had hurt him tremendously. House elves had a different kind of magic, it was volatile and needed to be expended or they would go mad. It was half the reason Kreacher was in such terrible shape, Grimmauld had been empty and he had been alone in there for so long with nothing to do, it was like his magic had cooked his brain.

But Hermione didn't know that because it wasn't in any book and she didn't bother to ask. If she had, she might know that freeing them wasn't the best choice, maybe she could actually work on their welfare and treatment instead of this but she didn't. Her reliance on books would be her downfall one day.

"Maybe we shouldn't have been so hard on her." Ron said guiltily eyeing the staircase but Harry didn't agree.

"There's a house elf called Blimp in the kitchens. He used to work for a Wizarding family called the Crewotts but they died in the war so he came to work here. He makes the bangers and mash for the Gryffindor table and uses the same recipe he did for his old family. He likes the greenhouses the best so Hufflepuff is his favourite House and he tries to look out for Neville too. He has a crush on Winky but he's only making his move now that she's gotten over her butterbeer addiction."

He turned to Ron who was looking at him in surprise. Admittedly a lot of this he had gotten from Winky who thought Blimp was dreamy and a proper house elf, but some of it Blimp had told him himself.

"They are not children. Treating them like it, isn't fair. They may be a bit more excitable but they aren't naive or innocents or anything. It's not that difficult to talk to them. She could convince them to ask for their freedom if she tried, but she doesn't, she just makes the choice for them and that's fucking patronising of her. I'm not going to mollycoddle her on this just because she cries. She can learn or she can shut up."

Anything else was just unacceptable.


	9. Chapter 9

OWL's classes were very different from anything they'd done before. Harry himself had spent so much time the year before out of class, practising charms and jinxes etc to survive the Triwizard tournament that he'd forgotten how to be a proper student, sitting in lessons and doing actual homework. Transfigurations and Charms especially were some heavy-duty classes. Luckily, Harry and Sirius had spent some time going over the material and while Harry wasn't quite as proficient to get all the spells on the first try, his newly found focus meant that he was able to perform the spells at the fifth try at least. He was still behind Hermione but now that he was actually paying attention, he could see the differences in the way they worked.

Hermione was precise and perfect in her incantations and the wand movements. She perfected the spells but never really pushed them to their limits. Ron, on the other hand, had a problem with mumbling his spells. He held his wand gingerly as if afraid it would break and didn't care to put any power into it at all.

Harry himself was never precise in his wand movement. Maybe it was an aftermath of the duel with Voldemort but his instinct was to jab, no precise swishing, no deft little flicks. After his first successful try, he could always manage the spell but he tended to power through it, the first time at least.

It had taken a while to realise this but Harry had decided he actually wanted to do well in his OWL's as well. It would be difficult, extraordinarily so. He would be juggling two different worlds entirely in his studies and there was the fact that whether he liked to think of it or not, Voldemort was back and Umbridge was looking for any excuse to mess with him. Still, it would be worth it and he was willing to put in the work.

With this in mind, he arranged to talk to Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick, the only teachers he thought might be actually receptive to helping him out.

"Professor Flitwick?"

"Ah, Mr Potter, come in!" The part goblin teacher said, welcoming him into his office. "You asked to see me?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you could give me a general outline of the format in which the essays should be written."

Flitwick was clearly confused. He mustn't have expected that and Harry couldn't blame him. When had he ever shown an interest in homework before?

"Well, it's always good to see students taking such an active interest. Although I must say, I would have thought you would go to Miss Granger with this query."

Harry pushed away the twinge of annoyance at that and answered tightly, "Hermione and I haven't been on talking terms for a while. And to be honest she's a bit too...," Detail oriented? Anal-retentive? Over the top? Just plain crazy? Which was the most polite way to say it?, "-intensive in her work."

Flitwick chuckled. "Ah yes, she does let herself get away in her zeal. IF she could just edit herself she'd have more O's in her repertoire than the EE's."

That was interesting to know.

"Well in any case," Flitwick wordlessly summoned a parchment from a desk and handed it to Harry, "This would be the ideal format to write your essays in."

It was a detailed guideline to a model essay but Harry's attention was on something quite different.

"Professor, how do you articulate the spell if it's done wordlessly?"

Again, Flitwick looked surprised and Harry cringed. He must have been a truly lacklustre student in the past.

"Well, Mr Potter, as you will know from basic Magical theory, intent is the basis of most spells. In particular, wordless casting depends strongly on how strongly a person is thinking of the spell or how well they picture it. The latter is why some of the greater wizards and witches of the time are those that have a talent for transfiguration."

"So when you cast it-?"

"I myself tend towards intent based casting. Having an affinity to mind magics makes this more suitable to me."

Mind magics. That didn't sound good. It sounded the opposite of good.

"What exactly are mind magics?"

"Broadly speaking there are two types of them, Legilimency, and Occlumency. The first is an aggressive form of mind magic, it is used to look into the minds of people-"

"Wait, people can read minds with this?!" That didn't sound good. That also sounded like the exact kind of thing that Voldemort could and would do. Hell, it sounded like something Dumbledore would do as well.

"A mind is a complicated organ, Mr Potter, not a book. When someone uses Legilimency, they are not only aware of your thoughts but also your emotions. It is easy for a first time Legilimens to lose themselves to the mind of the person they practise the art on. Only those who are completely assured in their identity manage to fine tune the art."

"Unless they're sociopaths who are completely devoid of empathy." Harry guessed and Flitwick shrugged in acquiescence. He imagined that Snape and Voldemort would find it easy then. And very possibly Dumbledore as well. "So, Occlumency, that must be the opposite."

"Occlumency is the art of keep a Legilimens from looking into your mind. Well apart from breaking eye contact that is." Flitwick looked at him carefully and Harry squirmed in his seat at the scrutiny. While he had always liked Flitwick as a teacher, he'd never really talked to him like this, one on one. The professor stood up and from a bookcase behind him he took a slim volume out. 'Magicks of the Minde', its title read and he held it out to Harry. Just before his fingers could touch the embossed cover though, Flitwick pulled it back a bit. "Assuming, of course, that you are interested?"

"I am. Voldemort could..." Harry let it trail off and Flitwick nodded before finally handing it over. The grin on Harry's face threatened to break his face in half. "Thank you very much, professor."

He tucked the essay guideline in the book and made to leave, eager to read the book, only for Flitwick's voice to stop him just as he was in the doorway.

"I'd advise you to keep it undisclosed, Harry," The fifteen year old jolted at that. Flitwick had never addressed him so casually before. "The Ministry might just make excuses to confiscate that."

Somehow, Harry had the feeling Flitwick wasn't just talking about the book.

* * *

It was a momentous occasion. Harry felt like he should share the momentous occasion with someone who would really appreciate it.

So he sat down at the Ravenclaw table and waited. The owls would be arriving soon and he felt like Luna would truly share in his joy.

"Harry?" He stopped his excited twitching and found himself face to face with Cho Chang. He hadn't spoken to her since the brief exchange of hellos in the train. Although that was something that extended to all their interactions really. They had never actually talked about anything. Why had he asked her to the Yule Ball again?

Oh, right. She was pretty and had shiny hair.

"Cho, hi. Do you by any chance know when Luna will be here?"

Her face dropped. Harry hadn't realised she was smiling excitedly until just then.

"Loony?" Her friend sneered and Harry shot her a glare.

"No, _Luna_ , not Looney. You may not know this but they're two very different words." He said, making sure to say it slowly so she understood.

"What are you doing at the Ravenclaw table?" She asked snidely even as Cho shushed her with a 'Mariette!'

"Wow, and I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart." Harry said in a very loud whisper that had her flushing a brick red in embarrassment. "I'm just a fifth year Gryffindor but I thought it was obvious that I was waiting for Luna when I asked Cho if she knew where Luna was."

He shouldn't have been surprised by the Ravenclaw's meanness though. Over time he had talked to Luna she'd mentioned missing things. She'd blamed it on nargles but Harry knew what she really meant by nargles. Nargles were the nasty little thoughts that a person had, dark and depressing. It had become very clear when he'd asked her if Dementors were the ruler of nargles and she'd explained they were the chieftains not the kings. The nargles that had stolen her things were the Ravenclaws who'd been bullying her and they _were_ bullying her.

Harry hadn't been bullied by Dudley and his gang for so long without recognising the obvious signs of it. And, as usual, the adults hadn't noticed or at least willingly ignored the signs of it.

Harry had wanted her to report them to Flitwick but she'd refused. In her own odd words, she'd made it clear that it had become a sort of a game for her to look for her things and he'd already seen that her bullies were far more annoyed by her strange talk than they would be if she retaliated.

"Harry Potter," crooned the dreamy voice he'd been waiting for.

"Luna, I'm getting my first ever Quibbler today."

Harry didn't know why exactly he was so excited for this. He knew that the Quibbler was ridiculous by normal standards. And even otherwise, the articles themselves weren't best researched, the topics themselves were meaningless especially if taken at face value and the puzzles were worthless to him considering he didn't take Ancient Runes or Arithmancy.

But someone, no matter how mad they might seem, had _questioned_ the status quo. Had questioned what the truth was and what wasn't. He'd looked around and found all the glaringly obvious evidence of Ministry interference in everything. The Daily Prophet was the only newspaper in their world and it wasn't just because of the limited population—there were only about four thousand wizards and witches in UK— but because the ministry had a difficult and convoluted policy to approving press and printing privileges.

The Quibbler, he had learnt from Sirius, had gotten their press rights only because the Ministry thought they were morons and no one would ever believe them. It was a bit of a joke but a joke that could be taken seriously anytime now. Luna said she would be taking over from her father once he decided to retire and already Harry knew that would bring massive differences. While Luna did tend to talk more about nargles and humdingers and moon frogs more than anything else, she had a streak of cunning in her that no one really noticed.

And she was brilliant too, although people didn't realise it. She'd said she wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps academically and her mother, before her unfortunate accident, had been a pioneer in Potions and Spellcrafting. In researching her Harry had found out about Snape as well, apparently the git had a fair few patented potions registered, most of them complicated healing potions that could only be obtained from a licensed healer at St Mungo's.

Pandora Lovegood on the other hand had invented potions that were near dark in nature. One of them was particularly controversial as it required freely given unicorn blood and it was almost impossible to get that. It was what the potion could do that was truly fascinating.

It allowed a person to interact with the dead. For twelve hours it simulated death and allowed people to freely talk to their loved ones who had passed over and the unicorn blood was the only thing that would anchor them to life.

When Luna took over the Quibbler, Harry was certain it would be with those types of credentials and people _would_ pay attention. It was a true tool in the making and Harry, who had only just begun thinking of things like the future, usually too caught up in the latest death trap he would enter, wanted to see it reach its full potential like he knew it would.

But, until then he had to deal with idiots who looked down upon the paper. Like Draco Malfoy who had snuck up behind Harry and ripped the magazine out of his hands before he could even open it.

"The Quibbler?" Malfoy announced loudly to the world disdainfully, "I knew you'd lost your marbles Potter but I didn't know you were that mad!"

Whispers started up all around them, most of them, Harry was willing to bet, were exactly the 'mad Potter' ones that Malfoy had wanted to induce.

And Harry was getting angry. He had tried to control himself but it was getting difficult when every voice in his head was telling him to attack. He'd been getting dangerously close to losing it ever since Malfoy had started dropping shitty comments about Hagrid in Grubbly-Plank's Care of Magical Creatures, it had only gotten worse with Snape's biased marking of his essays and now this.

Malfoy was still standing a bit too close behind him and Harry stood up quickly, hand reaching for his wand only to stop as he saw the steadying hand Goyle was keeping on Malfoy who looked terrified.

And Harry decided to go another route.

"God damn it Malfoy, when I said I didn't want you stalking me this year, I meant it! You may be pissed off that I'm not giving you any attention but that doesn't mean you rub your crotch against my back!" Malfoy flushed and the whispers took a new turn. Most of them Harry noticed, had gone from 'Potter's crazy' to 'Always knew Malfoy was bent'. But Harry wasn't done yet. "It's bad enough you keep hitting on me in front of Goyle!"

Cue more whispers from everyone as they noticed Goyle's hand on Malfoy's back. I was considerably higher up his back than could be misconstrued but no one cared. This was the Hogwarts gossip mill, unlike legends it required no basis in truth.

A teeny-tiny part of Harry felt a bit bad for what he was doing. But then he remembered all the times Malfoy had called Hermione and his mother a mudblood, last year when Malfoy had turned the entire school against him with his 'Potter Sucks' buttons, and all the many other times he'd screwed him over and it went away.

"And stealing my things too, I thought you grew out of that since you stole Neville's Remebrall first year. Merlin, haven't you gotten your kleptomania fixed yet?" Harry looked to the table at the left of the Ravenclaw with its green and silver furnishings and whistled. The few Slytherins there looked at him in amusement rather than the anger he'd expected. Something he'd have to think about later. "Oi, you lot, keep an eye out. Malfoy likes to take other people's things."

With that Harry snatched the Quibbler out of Malfoy's hands and shooed him off. The blond opened and closed his mouth a few times, an act that garnered a snide and vulgar comment from one of the Ravenclaw chasers and finally turned to leave.

He fled with Crabbe, Goyle, laughter and gossip following him.

"Now," Harry sat back down next to Luna who hadn't looked up throughout the tirade, too busy reading her own copy of the Quibbler, and unfurled the slightly crumpled magazine. "Where were we?"

"Rotfang conspiracy."

"Excellent."

They sat in communal silence as they read the magazine, Luna humming softly and Harry making his own little noises when something particularly interested him. The Ravenclaws around them had been annoying at first, staring at them but when it became clear that they wouldn't react they left them well alone.

"It's a pity there aren't more options when it comes to independent press." Luna's hurt look had Harry quickly following it up, "Not that the Quibbler isn't great but it focuses on magizoology more than anything else."

"Daddy doesn't like talking about people." Luna shrugged in response.

A sentiment Harry understood really.

But it was still frustrating for him. The ministry had so systematically suppressed the people that not only did they not question things, they didn't even think to do it. They preyed on the fears of the population with such precision, knowing exactly what would provide them the response they wanted that it would take something truly big to change things.

Something like the war that Voldemort was planning.

However, it still wouldn't change much. The internal problems that the Wizarding community were facing would be forgotten in the face of this outside enemy. If anything, the aftermath would create even more openings for the lawmakers to seize, more ways in which they would repress people-assuming, of course, that Voldemort didn't win.

Even Dumbledore, he ran a vigilante group and he ran it the same way the ministry ran the country, withholding information in pursuit of the 'bigger picture'. The little bad things that he let slide, well they were necessary sacrifices: made, honoured and then promptly forgotten.

"Pity we need a license to star our own newspaper."

"Oh you don't need a license for that." Luna said blithely, her absently moving fingers braiding a little section of her hair. "You only need it if you make any money off it."

All of Harry's morose thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"So if it was a _free_ newspaper-?"

"You just need a printing press."

Plans whizzed about in Harry's head with the speed of Firebolts. A printing press, that couldn't be too hard to find. They could just reach out to a Muggle one and the Ministry wouldn't even have any clue. Hell, Fred, George and Sirius could probably buy and modify a muggle printing press so it would be able to print Wizarding photos and they were set. Sirius was loaded, Harry was loaded and Fred and George were brilliant.

They just needed writers.

But it could work. It would just be a large opinion piece in the beginning, of course. They could have testimonials from Purebloods, werewolves, students, muggleborn et al. They could set up a stand in the Leaky Cauldron to start their distribution off and have all their mail directed through Gringotts or even better, the banks in Switzerland which were run by wizards and not bound to the British Ministry of Magic. Hell, they would be even protected by the ICW statutes which were actually upheld there, unlike in Britain.

It could be glorious.

No, it absolutely _would_ be glorious.

"Luna, what do you think about getting a head start on your journalist career?"


	10. Chapter 10

In his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry was being a model student. He didn't question anything, was quiet and didn't break any rules.

And Umbridge was watching him with a hawk's eye, waiting for him to screw up.

Which was why Harry didn't think she was that bad really. Snape took points and gave him detention for _breathing too loudly!_ She was abusing her ill-gotten authority a lot but she still wasn't up to Snape standards.

Sad.

As long as Harry kept his head down and didn't let her get to him, he was fine. She needed real ammunition against him anyway, especially now that he was representing the Black seats in the Wizengamot.

But he still found it hard not to just snap at the bitch when she went on another one of her moronic rants about blood purity. DADA was now the class in which he put the few tips and tricks for Occlumency to good use, clearing his mind as best he could to keep from wringing her neck. But not everyone had the same self control. The Gryffindor hourglass was losing rubies like it never had before and he just knew a lot of that was from the reckless confrontations his housemates insisted on, some of them well deserved. Morale had never been this low in ages in the Gryffindor common rooms, even the twins relatively subdued.

But Harry knew something was very wrong the minute he saw Colin step into the Gryffindor common room. The boy was usually so exuberant it was painful, and somehow he always knew exactly where Harry was, no matter what.

So, when he walked in, hunched down on himself without even noticing that Harry was sitting there all alone, he knew something was very wrong.

"Colin?"

The younger boy flinched and his hand curled into a fist automatically, only for him to hiss at the movement, cradling his hand.

Harry had seen that sort of thing in himself too often to be unconcerned. He wasn't exactly the poster boy for well adjustment.

"You're hurt."

Colin didn't meet his eyes or refute the statement, he just stared at Harry with a measured look. Harry had been the subject of scrutiny before but not from him. He gritted his teeth, clearly angry and Harry wondered if it was him that Colin was angry at.

"Why aren't you fighting?" He asked simply.

"Fighting?"

"You just let Umbridge walk all over you!" He shouted, only to jerk as the movement aggravated his hand.

"Want to show me your hand?" Harry asked coolly. Umbridge, Colin had mentioned. He must have had detention with her; Ginny had said something about many in their class receiving detention. Harry's own class had followed his example and kept their heads down, for the most part at least. Hermione was taking the route of passive resistance and Ron had outright yelled at the bint. However, no one had received detention even though Umbridge had looked like she wanted to slap them down with something. Clearly, Ginny's class had given her the excuse she was waiting for.

"Why aren't you fighting?" Colin demanded again and Harry smiled sharply.

"You show me your hand and I'll tell you."

Colin hesitated but held his hand out and Harry saw the words 'I must not tell lies' etched into the palm.

"She made you mutilate yourself?!" Harry pondered and while part of him was horrified at what the toad had made Colin do, he was also impressed with Colin's penmanship.

"I wrote lines with a quill and it took the blood from my hand to write it in." Colin spat out.

Colin was lucky Harry had been experimenting with potions and knew that Bubotuber pus diluted in Murtlap essence was a good remedy for open cuts and a bit of nutmeg would help prevent scarring too. It took Harry less than a minute to make the solution and soak bandages in it before laying them carefully on Colin's palm.

"That should help." It was working already, Harry could see it in the awestruck face of Colin. "And I'm not fighting because Umbridge is the symptom of an entirely broken system, not just a single corrupt ministry official."

Colin looked at him in surprise."What?"

"I'm guessing all the people in your class who got detention with Umbridge were muggleborns?"

The Fourth year startled. "How did you know?"

"Because that's her target. She's been making life hell for werewolves, half bloods of any kind and getting every other magical creature labelled as being dark for the past many years. And she's not even that important."

"You can't mean that." Colin looked horrified.

"Colin, Umbridge is on this power trip because this is the first time she's had so much power. Oh sure, she's pushed for a ton of really shitty laws but they have to be passed by the Wizengamot where she has no seat. But consider this, the highest-ranking Muggleborn official in the entire ministry is one Dirk Cresswell, who's the liaison to the Goblin Nation, the least wanted job in the ministry. The rest have never risen above positions of secretaries and clerks. I'm not fighting against her, because _she's_ not really the problem. She's just the symptom."

"B-but you defeated Voldemort, they can't seriously be-"

" _Think_ Colin, think of Malfoy," Harry interrupted him gruffly. It was a harsh truth but a truth nonetheless. "Think of everything he gets away with, all because of his father who claims he was under the Imperius. Think of the fact that an entire year went by with you and a dozen other muggleborns petrified but only when the pureblood girl went missing did they start taking things seriously. Think of the fact that you can't do magic when you're away from home because you're a Muggleborn but anytime a pureblood child does it behind his warded house, no one cares."

"So there's nothing we can do?"

Harry sighed. "There's always something you can do but you won't get any actual change coming about by defying Umbridge."

Colin frowned, "So what _can_ we do?"

"Well, it's a good thing I found you actually, I was hoping you could help me out. How would you like to be the head of the media department for this free newspaper we're planning?"

* * *

"Our first staff meeting." Harry mused out loud as he sat in a particularly out of the way room that no one but the twins and the Marauders had known of, equipped with the strongest silencing charms they knew and a few discreetly placed notice-me-not charms. Around him sat Colin, Luna, Fred, George and through the mirror, Sirius. "Let's everyone introduce ourselves shall we?"

"Colin Creevey, head of the media department." The younger boy said proudly, his camera hanging around his neck like it hadn't done since Umbridge had 'accidentally' broken it. Sirius and the twins had fixed it up and added a few extra safety features.

"Luna Lovegood, chief correspondent."

"Gred-"

"and Forge-"

"Press operators-"

"Production-"

"And Props."

"At your service." They chorused and bowed, much to Luna's pleasure as she clapped excitedly.

"Sirius Black, alleged mass murderer, alleged death eater, godfather to the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Fuck-Things-Up, Marauder, illegal animagus, only man to escape Azkaban, the true black sheep of the Black family." His godfather announced. Harry, who had expected this since Sirius had been nervous over his introduction and run it over with him a million times, was just glad he hadn't said 'Boy-Who-Pooped-On-Me-When-He-Was-A-Wee-Baby' as he had threatened to. "Also the financier of the newspaper we're planning and secondary shareholder of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."

"...Harry Potter, editor."

Colin and Luna clapped, Gred and Forge cheered loudly and Sirius whooped saying 'That's my godson!'

Possibly the best reception Harry had ever gotten.

"On the agenda today, what should we name the newspaper."

"The Daily Student!" Colin said enthusiastically, having clearly given this a lot of thought. "It is a student newspaper right?"

"That would be great if we had more staff members and could actually put things up on a daily basis." Harry cut down the idea and Colin sat back down with a pout.

"The True Seer." Sirius added. "It'll be a direct hit to the Daily Prophet."

"Sounds off but I like the idea." Harry commended his godfather.

"Soothsayer." Luna suggested and impressed oohs and ahs went up.

"Good one, putting it on the table."

"Sounds like a novel's name though." Colin disagreed and Harry conceded the point.

"We could just not name it." Harry was surprised to hear Remus' voice come through the mirror and sure enough the werewolf appeared squished next to Sirius." I mean, it's going to be anonymous anyway."

"Still need people to read it though and they won't do that it there aren't big bold letters on the front." Sirius disagreed.

Harry thought it over. Remus made a point but advertising was something they'd need to do too. "So we just name it 'The Anonymous Times'?"

"Works for us." The twins said in unison and the rest agreed. "Now we discuss the articles. We need reports and pictures that are _intense_ , can't have a half hearted first issue, people won't be interested in reading beyond he first page otherwise."

"Do how do we do this?"

"Okay we'll start off with something personal, Colin I'm hoping you can write something about finding out about magic as a Muggleborn and if it's possible I want a corresponding article from your parents about being muggle parents with magical children, is that okay with you?" Colin was clearly taken aback but he nodded eagerly. "And I'd like photos of concepts and places that are common in both the muggle and magical world so we can contrast them and highlight what they have in common, okay?"

"On it!"

With that done Harry turned to the twins, "Fred, George I want you to collaborate with Luna and write something about alternative professions apart from the same old Healer, Auror, Ministry job shtick, alright?"

"Aye, aye captain." They chorused.

"Sirius, I want something about growing up in an orthodox Pureblood family. Focus on the good and the bad and maybe add something about Hogwarts life and how it influenced you."

"Do I have to?" Sirius whined and Harry turned to Remus.

"I'll get him to do it."

"Excellent and Luna, I have an important job for you, I want you to do a big piece focussing on the humanoid sort of magical creatures like goblins, house-elves, centaurs, werewolves, vampires etc. It's not for the current issue but it's a broad topic and I want to have justice done to it. So just take your time and do your research alright?"

"We could serialise it." Luna suggested and Harry thought it over.

"We'll decide that once you have enough material ready or at least a sort of loose structure planned out. But yeah a serialised format would be better, maybe make it more interview heavy."

"And what about you?" Sirius asked, still sulking over being given homework. "What's your contribution to the paper?"

"No fucking clue but if you have any ideas I'd like to hear them."

"You're doing human interest stories right," Remus said, "So what's your passion?"

The silence spoke for itself as Harry pondered that thought hard. As it continued on and on the looks went from questioning to just plain pity.

What _was_ his passion in life? He liked flying, sure, but not enough to write an article about it. He liked DADA but not the way Umbridge taught it. Then there was...Or maybe...

"I am...passionate about staying alive?"

Cue more pitying looks.

Remus leaned in closer to the mirror, "Harry...are you okay?"

"I need to get a life."

* * *

 **A/N: So, how obvious is it that I have no idea how newspapers work?**


	11. Chapter 11

Dolores Umbridge was having a content day. She had been having days of those kind for a while now and only wished it could move from content to truly happy.

But that wretched boy Harry Potter refused to play along.

She had such plans. They had learnt all about Harry Potter of course, from that tolerable Weasley, from the illustrious Lucius Malfoy, from all those other students who had watched the boy through the years and then settled into the Ministry of Magic the way all good witches and wizards do.

So she had thought it would be easy to rile the boy up to a rage, get him to deliver himself into her clutches where she could explain exactly how wrong he was, or if he refused to understand—which she always knew was more possible—she would punish him for his insolence. He had a temper, this much they knew and Dolores knew all the buttons to press. And she got to have her fun at the same time, making sure those worthless half breeds and mudbloods knew exactly where they belonged.

 _At her feet._

But he hadn't done any of that. He had been quiet, unassuming, han't cared a whit even as the rest of them rose against her in outrage. He simply did not respond. The idiot boy didn't even glare at her when she insulted his half breed friends, only looked right through her as if she wasn't there. Why, he didn't even complain about never doing magic like his friend, the mudblood, did.

Disappointing but still, not as bad as it could be. At least he wasn't proclaiming that the Dark Lord was back for the top of rooftops. Poor dear Cornelius had such a vexing time with that nastiness.

So, yes, Dolores was content.

And then she stepped out of her quarters. There were whispers and looks directed at her but that wasn't quite as unusual and she ignored it. She happily made her way down to Great Hall in anticipation of seeing the walls outside it, plastered as they were, with her thoughtful contributions to Hogwarts.

Only to find them hidden by something different.

" _ **The Anonymous Times**_ " proclaimed the posters now and her temper rose. Titters and giggles filled the air as students talked behind her back ('Look how purple she's getting!', 'Never knew toads came in such a hideous colour!', 'Is that Pepper-Up or is steam really coming out of her ears?', 'Squibs, they're all the same') and foaming at the mouth she reached the closest poster and ripped the paper right off it.

Only to find another one had taken its place.

She kept on ripping them off, certain that it would end soon but instead more and more copies of that vile thing piled up next to her while the surface in front still read the same words.

 _ **The Anonymous Times.**_

Apoplectic with rage she stomped her way back to her quarters and began writing a letter immediately, only to rethink it.

Dear Cornelius needed to be told of this in person, she thought and rushing back to the Great Hall to grab herself a copy of the paper to show him what insolence the students were up to, she then floo-ed out to the Ministry of Magic.

How dare they?! How dare they break the laws and put a newspaper out without the Ministry's authorisation and approval!

They would pay for this!

* * *

In the fourth year class of Muggle Studies Charity Burbage fought off a deluge of questions she had no answer to. Her students pored over a picture studiously, shooting out observations that raised even more questions.

On a page of the newly established 'The Anonymous Times' there was a wizarding photo. In the picture of what was clearly the muggle side of King's Cross station, a busy crowd made its way to and from the turnstiles. There was a huge variety of people, all different and yet in many ways similar. Some carried briefcases, some luggage, there was a group of young students in one corner laughing uproariously, cases of musical instruments and backpacks carried between them. And then there was the woman with the strange grey thing that she was holding up to her ear. It looked like a small portable wizarding wireless what with the antenna like thing coming off it and they were most curious.

That was what the _younger_ students were looking at of course.

The older ones were far too focused on the woman's clingy black dress, the glossy red lips and her sexy wink at whoever was taking the picture.

(Even with the weird fake nose and shorn hair, Sirius attracted people to him like moths to flame)

(Remus hadn't been too happy about it though)

(Which was part of the reason why Colin approved that photo of all the ones that Sirius took that day.)

(And the reason why Gred and Forge were found singing 'Matchmaker Matchmaker make me a match' all day long)

"I think we'd better ask some of our Muggleborn students." Charity finally said and her students were driven into a frenzy once again, eager to know.

* * *

"So with these mopile phones you can talk to anyone?!" The Seventh year muggleborns had been roped into explaining the picture to the younger students. Their N.E.W.T. DADA 'lectures' had been cancelled following Umbridge's escape to the ministry but eventually as the hue and cry rose to uncontrollable levels and the professors themselves seemed to want to discuss the paper, the classes for the day had been cancelled. They explained things to the crowd that had begun as the Muggle Studies' students and grown so much it had been moved into the Great Hall. There were the occasional hecklers about 'Mudbloods' but as detentions were assigned they calmed down. Even the Slytherins listened while pretending not to be interested.

"Mo _bile_ , not mo _pile_ , but yes. Anyone who has a mobile phone and whose number you know anyway. And as long as there's network. Some places are really remote and what not, so no network."

"My mum works at Motorola and she said the R&D department is working on making them even smaller and with a better battery life. They say it's going to boom until eventually landlines are going to be outmoded."

"Landlines, those are those round phones , right? With the dial and the-"

"Actually those are pretty old. My grandmother has one like that but it's just a show piece really. We just got this new model with caller id."

"Caller id?"

"So you can see who's calling. So if it's someone you don't want to talk to you can just not pick up the phone. My mum saves all the numbers of those telesales people and the prank callers so she knows whom to block. "

"Can you imagine if you knew who was floo-ing in before they floo-ed in?! And you could just shut it off so they can't come through!"

"Professor Babbling, is there a ward that can do that?" A student asked the Ancient Runes teacher who shook her head in negative.

"Lets try a few rune sequences to see if perhaps we can come up with something for that, shall we?" She said and a murmur of interest grew.

Pansy Parkinson clearly unhappy with the attention the muggles and the mudbloods were getting shouted over them all, "No pureblood would allow for such a common, vulgar ward in their fireplaces. Better luck trying it in the muggle hovels and hope they don't catch fire."

"Oh they won't. You see, _muggles_ don't need fire to keep warm, that's really quite an outdated concept. And the muggle government has actual guidelines for building structures so that they aren't easy to burn down. Luckily enough there's so many _muggles_ everywhere that there's a fire engine around every corner to help in case of a fire." Justin Finch Fletchley said, emphasising each and every 'muggle' in his speech, his nose up in the air. "The Blitz didn't even bring _muggle_ London down, a little fire is easy to deal with. Then again, _some_ Purebloods are the type of inbred weaklings who would think a little fire is something to be worried about. Probably try to beat it out with their wand because they can't do much in way of actual magic with it." Justin made a face, his eyes glazing over and his jaw dropping down as he made grunting noises that more than one person recognised as being a jab at Goyle and laughed while Parkinson flushed pink.

From where he was quietly sitting and watching Harry smirked.

* * *

In the Leaky Cauldron there was a similar scene. The clerks in the ministry, ie, the muggleborns who would never progress beyond their desk jobs by virtue of their blood, were now explaining concepts about the muggle world to the purebloods they worked for. A Conversation had been started and everyone was asking everyone about what was written in the newspaper and if it really was true.

'Stubby Plankman' a.k.a. Sirius Black in muggle disguise was sat on a barstool drinking firewhiskey. Dramatically, he emptied the glass and shouted for another. Tom, who'd just been arbitrating an argument nearby about the article in the 'Anonymous Times' about 'Underrated Professions and how to succeed at them' set a filled glass in front of the man. "You should slow down, mate."

"Everything in this paper is _true_ ," 'Stubby' said with a slur to his voice before hiccuping. In another corner of the room, Remus, keeping an eye on the man with his werewolf hearing, rolled his eyes. "And these eejits about the stupid professions bit."

"You wanna say that to our face, mate?" One of them said, angry and Remus tensed, ready to get him out of there if it came to blows. Not that Sirius didn't deserve a punch or two but his fake nose nose would come off easily if it came to that for all that they were using a special Marauder's version of glue to keep it on.

"You're EEJITS!" Stubby said belligerently, rising to his feet and stumbling around while pointing wildly. "IF it's all true then, then-" He hiccoughed again.

"Then?" the angry man asked.

"Have you not read the whole thing?! Look at this!" He waved the paper in front of him frantically, "Look at that, we've got an imperius 'victim' running the ministry!"

And finally, finally attention went to the very article that he was talking about. Harry's contribution to the paper:

 **From the desk of the Editor**

 _ **Inside the administration**_

They call it a ministry because it's headed by a minister. The Ministry of Magic. The strange thing is that Britain is one of the few, if not the _only_ country that uses that term formally. Most countries use the term Government or Congress.

But that's rather an unimportant all, what does it matter what it is called, so what if other countries in the naming of their administration explicate the role they play, as governors or a group legislative assembly, while ours is known for the fact that _we have a minister_. After all that doesn't really mean anything, does it?

So, let's introduce to our readers, the Ministry of Magic. Chances are, if you're reading this, you know someone who works there. The ministry is the biggest employer in the country. A multitude of departments have a multitude of people working for them. You inevitably know someone, who knows someone, who knows the Minister personally! Isn't that exciting?! Doesn't that fill you with such trust in the man, having an almost personal connection to him?

After all, everyone knows about Cornelius Fudge. His signature lime green bowler hat is a wonderful quirk, clearly the sign of a jovial man. Not very inconspicuous or muggle friendly of course, so it's a good thing that he has permission to break the Statute of Secrecy. After all, he does have to meet many important people in the muggle ministry, even his counterpart the Prime Minister of the Muggle government. Yes, his personal style is ostentatious and doesn't seem particularly respectable, especially when meeting such a high ranking member of the government that rules over the millions of people that we share our land with. But he comes off as just such a jovial person, so it's alright. The Prime Minister could of course set embargoes upon the items we depend upon from the muggle world, such as food and drink, the wood pulp for parchment, the ink for our quills etc, but Fudge is sure to handle all of that of course. It can't _possibly_ be the reason why food prices have inflated wildly in the last few years, that's ridiculous. Cornelius Fudge is after all, a respectable jovial man.

And he's advised by such illustrious persons too. After all, everyone knows that the respected Lord Malfoy has the Minister's ear. Lord Malfoy, of course, is the tragic figure you probably know best from his trial at the end of the War before. Under the imperius curse, he was made to take the Dark Mark and kill and torture muggles and muggleborns. Truly, a figure whose affliction must torture him every day. More and more research shows that the Dark Mark leaves a literal mark of Dark magic upon the souls of these people. And to have to take it under the imperius, stripped of his own free will, Lucius Malfoy has truly endured great suffering and it has been very important to our ministry's future endeavours. It is _because_ he suffered so, that our Aurors are trained to be able to resist this heinous curse. I am sure that Lord Malfoy himself has also learnt to be able to resist it. After all, it wouldn't do for a man who could be so easily controlled to give advice to the Minister of this fair land, right? Especially when the taint of the Dark Mark is taken into consideration.

Yes, Lucius Malfoy and his efforts to overcome his weak will has made him truly indispensable to our great ministry. And his frequent donations to a multitude of Ministry departments and even Hogwarts where his son studies, cannot be forgotten either. Only three years ago Lord Malfoy made the generous donation of Nimbus 2001 brooms to the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, guided, no doubt, by his son's acceptance to the team as the seeker. The young Malfoy doesn't have a particularly good record in the game but what he lacks in skill he makes up for in determination.

And that is only one of the many who advise our jovial Minister. His other advisor may be recognised by many of you from letters from the young ones in school. I am talking about Dolores Umbridge. The Undersecretary to the Minister she currently serves as the DADA professor at Hogwarts, as well as the High Inquisitor. Now, some of you may be wondering just what a High Inquisitor is, after all it certainly wasn't a position that existed during our times. It is a position that was touched upon in our fellow newspaper, the Daily Prophet but we cannot help but expound on this further. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor is a position appointed by the Minister under the advice of Lucius Malfoy, with the express purpose of inspecting classes and thus exposing any faults that may lie in the state of education at Hogwarts. While the decision seems odd considering that all the core subjects have been taught by the same professors for the past fourteen or so years, barring the DADA course, Madame Umbridge herself has said that the reason for her appointment is so that 'Progress for the sake of progress (may) be discouraged'.

Inquiries to the Wizarding Examinations Authority reveal that Madame Umbridge herself did not achieve more than an Acceptable for her DADA O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, however her tutelage at home might very well have exceeded these standards. Her father, Orford Umbridge is well known for his long service in the department of Magical Maintenance. While currently retired, many remember him for his steadfast nature and his dedication to his job. Her mother is less well known, but in the muggle world, to which she belongs, she was known for her whimsy and easy going nature, although her whereabouts are currently unknown. Certainly, the knowledge of the muggle world that was achieved by Dolores Umbridge due to her parentage gives her a significant advantage in manoeuvering the Muggle world and therefore colours her interactions with the Muggle Prime Minister accordingly.

And this is just the top level of our ministry, the crème de la crème if you would. Aren't we lucky then that these handful of respectable people are the ones with the most power in our ministry?

* * *

 **A/N: Long time no update. Sorry about that but I lost my train of thought with this story and am still not convinced that this chapter's tone and language is in line with the former ones. C'Est la vie.**

 **P.S. Can you tell that Harry read Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and was very inspired by Mark Antony's speech?**


End file.
